In My System
by Marisa
Summary: Julie Taylor receives a frightening wakeup call while away to college and when she tries to head home, she finds herself on a road trip back to Dillon with Tim Riggins and his unexpected traveling companion. Will they continue where they left off five years ago? (Spoiler Alert!)
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Although I started with the intention of keeping true to the _Friday Night Light_ series, I found that it wouldn't work, so I've made some changes that are relevant to the path of this story. Therefore,

1) This is AU and characters will be out of character.

2) Tim Riggins never had a serious relationship with Tyra or Lyla and Julie Taylor never had a relationship with Matt Saracen.

3) Julie goes to Linfield College in Portland, Oregon (I needed her to be on the upper west coast for a reason).

4) Eric and Tami Taylor don't leave Dillon as seen in the last episode of season five and Eric continues to coach the Dillon Panthers.

5) This is written in first person, mostly through Julie's point of view. But I will often switch to Tim to fill in some relevant gaps in the story and to provide a different perspective. If the POV is changing to Tim, I will label it at the beginning of the chapter or section.

6) The first few chapters contain some flashbacks, some are from the show and some I've created. They will be labeled "Flashback" at the beginning of the chapter or section.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing related to Friday Night Lights or its characters.

* * *

**Chapter 1 **

* * *

The morning started out bad and little did I know it was about to get worse…much worse.

After showering and drying my hair, which I tied in a ponytail that sat high at the back of my head, I applied the required heavy makeup. My work uniform, three different sets, hung in my closet. I pulled a clean set out and began to dress.

The outfit consisted of a black and white plaid mini-skirt that was extra short and hung low on my hips; a black bra; a short white top tied together just below my chest and open enough to show the bra; black stockings; and black, thick-soled, high-heeled boots that reached just below my knees and had six buckles all the way up the sides. I went to the mirror and checked myself as I donned the accessories: black leather wristbands and collar.

I absolutely loved this outfit. It was one of the reasons I had gotten a job at Gothic Treasures. It was a restaurant that catered mostly to male customers for obvious reasons. I got great tips, which was enough to cover the rent for an apartment I shared with someone else. Despite that, my parents usually sent me money every month, in case I needed it.

In actuality, if my mom or dad knew I worked at a place like Gothic Treasures, they would freak. Even at twenty-one, I was still their little girl. To spare myself their wrath, I told them I worked as a waitress at Longhorn Steakhouse, wearing conservative black slacks and a polo shirt.

I walked out of my bedroom and found my roommate, Henry, moping around in the kitchen, still in his pajamas. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get ready in a minute." He sat down at the island.

I made toast for myself and drank orange juice and Henry stared at me like I was a complete stranger. Six months ago he had asked me out and I awkwardly told him I needed time to get over someone I had left behind in Dillon. But maybe I was being melodramatic. I had lived with Henry for three years and it was time I put the past behind me and moved forward. Unfortunately I wasn't so sure that Henry Pelican would be anywhere in my future. "What?" I asked as he continued to stare.

"Why do you have to be so goddamned cheerful this early in the morning?" he bickered. "It's sickening."

I frowned at him. Mr Debbie Downer. "First of all, it's 11:00 and not that early and second of all, it's not my fault you're cranky in the morning."

He put his hands on the sides of his head. "Shut up! Just shut up!"

I ignored his irritable attitude and went right to the issue I knew he never liked talking about. "Did you get paid yesterday?"

"No."

"Henry, I need you to give me your half of the rent."

"I don't have it, alright?"

"Well, what're you doing with all your money?"

His eyes went to the clock on the wall. "We'll talk about it tonight. You're gonna be late for work."

I grabbed my purse and angrily left the apartment without saying goodbye. Maybe I needed to move out or find another roommate. Henry Pelican was beginning to get on my last nerve.

I drove to work and went to the back room to clock in.

"Hey, Julie. How's it going?" asked Bridgett.

I didn't reply. Bridgett Michelson was not on my list of favorite co-workers. She liked to steal the spotlight whenever she could. And she often stole my regulars.

"You'll have to take my section today," she continued.

I turned to her, noticing that she wasn't dressed in her work uniform. "What for?"

"I have to leave," she said with a smile and an exaggerated sigh. "Family emergency." She turned and walked out the back door.

The lunch crowd at Gothic Treasures was insane. But taking on four more tables wasn't the end of the world. Plus it gave me an opportunity to steal some of Bridgett's regulars. I could flirt just as well as she could.

As I started to head down the corridor toward the dining room, I thought about some flirty things I could say. But I never made it there. Someone grabbed me from behind and a hand covered my mouth, preventing a scream. Strong arms kept me from using my own arms to fight back, but I kicked and squirmed as much as I could.

The assailant dragged me into the office, barging through the door.

My boss, Larry, jumped out of his chair and that's when I saw the gun as the man behind me pointed it over my shoulder at Larry.

I was roughly tossed against the desk and the gun barrel quickly went to my cheek. My eyes flew up. His face was covered with a ski mask. All I could see were eyes as black as night. I froze. The steel against my cheek was ice cold and I could smell gunpowder, like the gun had recently gone off.

The dark eyes went to Larry. "Open the safe or she dies."

"There's nothing in the safe," Larry nervously stammered.

"I said open it!"

I cringed in fear as he pressed the gun barrel harder into my cheek and I wondered if anyone had ever survived being shot in the face. It wouldn't be pretty. It would ruin my friend's wedding if one of the bridesmaids showed up with half of her face gone.

Gloria suddenly appeared. "Larry, have you seen my…"

The assailant turned and the gun was pointed toward where she stood frozen in the doorway. He was going to shoot her, the sweet old woman who made sure the kitchen ran smoothly and made sure none of the customers got too fresh with us girls.

I couldn't let that happen. I squirmed beneath his hand and it got his attention for only a second, but it was enough time for Gloria to vanish before a gun shot went off and struck the wall outside the office where she had been standing. Hopefully she was on her way to a phone and calling the police.

The gun barrel was back on my face and the assailant clenched his teeth. "Stupid girl!"

"Hey," yelled Larry. "I'm opening the safe! Just take it easy!"

I couldn't see behind me, but I heard Larry's movements and heard the grinding of the knob on the safe as he turned it.

The masked man produced a cloth duffle. "Fill it!"

There was more shuffling and it was taking a very long time. How much money could Larry possibly have in the safe? And then I was yanked up on my feet.

"Give it to her," said the robber.

Larry came in my sight and he looked into my eyes as he put the bag into my arms. I saw the look of terror on his face. The gun left my cheek and it smashed into Larry's nose. He went down to the floor with a cry of pain.

"Move!" the robber yelled in my direction.

He pushed me ahead of him and before I could go in the direction of the dining room, he grabbed me and shoved me the other way down the corridor.

Outside the back door was a white van, as plain and nondescript as could be. With his hand on my shoulder and the gun to the back of my head, he maneuvered me toward the van. If he forced me inside of it, I knew I was dead. He would never let me go.

As I held tightly to the extremely heavy duffle bag full of money, I slid my hand into the small purse clipped to a chain around my waist. My fingers closed around a can of mace I kept.

While the assailant was momentarily distracted by the van's doors as he pulled them open, I spun around and sprayed the mace directly into his eyeballs. He let out a girlish scream.

But I didn't stop to analyze it and ran like hell. I heard gunshots behind me and when I briefly glanced over my shoulder, he was shooting in every direction because he still couldn't see. The back door could only be opened from the inside, so I bolted around the side of the building, intending to go through the front entrance. One more glance over my shoulder revealed the assailant had recovered from the mace and was coming after me. I made it through the door and quickly turned the door lock just as he rushed up and tried to pull the door open.

"Open the door!" he shouted.

I shook my head and backed away.

His gun came up and he fired it.

I screamed as the glass shattered and rained all over me. A hand grabbed me by the back of the neck and when I looked, I saw he had reached through the broken glass panel. In a last ditch effort to push him away, I grabbed at his head and somehow ripped off the ski mask.

And I saw his face. It dawned on me that I had seen him before. He had eaten here a couple nights ago. I was his waitress and we flirted with each other.

When he grabbed for the bag of money, I quickly threw it behind me. "Stupid girl!" he shouted and punched me in the face.

I flew backward and saw the gun come up. He aimed right at me and pulled the trigger. I flinched, wondering how much pain a bullet would cause.

Click…nothing. His gun was empty. It was a miracle.

He roared like a wild animal. "You're dead!" He disappeared around to the back of the building.

I covered the side of my face where he punched me. My entire body was shaking, wondering why he had let me go. Then I heard the sound of sirens coming closer. A minute later the white van came into view and raced away down the street and was gone.

Everyone came running to my aid, helping me up on my feet. I walked to the bag of money and picked it up.

Larry pushed everyone out of the way, one hand holding a towel over his bleeding nose.

"Out of the way." He stared with his mouth open when he saw I was holding the duffle bag.

The left side of my face was throbbing painfully. I slowly took a few steps toward him and held out the bag. "I…I got away from him."

He took it and continued staring at me as if I had just walked on water. "Julie, I can't believe this. You saved my money. He could have killed you."

My head started spinning and I felt like I was about to faint, but my body had other ideas. I bent forward and lurched out the contents of my stomach all over Larry's shoes.

* * *

**(Tim's POV)**

I waited in line to get my ticket and my number. There were a hell of a lot of people at this auction. I started wondering if maybe I didn't bring enough cash to win the bid. In my pocket was my life savings, eight thousand dollars in cash. But I had also brought along something I never thought I'd ever give up

What was more important? Something I had poured my blood, sweat and tears into, or something that could make me financially stable?

_Well, Riggins, isn't that the reason you brought it with you to begin with? If you have to trade it, then that's what you gotta do._ In the back of my mind, I could picture my older brother, Billy giving me that dumbstruck look he always had on his face when I did something stupid. _What the fuck, Tim?_ I had been hearing that a lot lately.

I sighed and prayed I wouldn't have to part with Mad Maxine after all.

The line moved on and I was finally standing at the counter.

"Name?" asked the clerk. He looked totally bored.

"Timothy Riggins."

"Spell it."

"T-I-M-O-T-H-Y R-I-G-G-I-N-S." I watched as he wrote my name down on a form.

He also wanted my address, my phone number, my date of birth and the name of my auto insurance company.

"You wanna know the color of my shorts, too?" I asked with a grin.

He looked at me over the top of his eyeglasses. "Are you paying cash or trading?"

I lost the smile because he didn't look amused at all. "I've got cash and merchandise to trade."

"What's the merchandise?"

"A sixty-nine Chevelle. Fully restored, fully loaded."

"Value?"

"Thirty-five grand."

He wrote it all on the form and then shoved it at me. "Sign it."

I signed my name and he handed me a brochure and a stick with the number 033 on it. My high school football number. Hm…was this fate telling me it was my lucky day? Or was it an omen for bad things to come?

"Next!" the clerk yelled.

I stepped away from the counter and followed the rest of the people into a large tent. As I found a seat, I glanced around at my competition. There was a hell of a lot of money sitting around, just from the looks of their clothes. Tuxedos, long gowns…and hats. This was a horse auction, not the fucking Kentucky Derby.

I opened the brochure and skimmed through the names until I came to the one Foster told me to bid on.

Lot Number: 16

Name: Strike While It's Hot

Age: 4.2 years

Gender: Stallion

Breed: Friesian

Potential: Dressage, Driving

Temperament: 10

I frowned at the potentials. I kind of figured out what Driving was about. Something about pulling a carriage. Yeah, that was self-explanatory. But Dressage? What the hell was that? I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and was about to look it up on the internet when two women wearing enormous sun hats sat down in front of me. Maybe they could help me figure out what the stats meant.

I leaned forward. "Good afternoon, ladies."

They both turned annoyed looks at me.

I charmed them with my most charming smile. "Hi, I'm wondering if you can help me decipher something on this brochure."

Maybe my smile had worked because they looked at each other and then smiled back at me. "Well, certainly," said the one with the pink hat. "How can we help?"

I pointed to the entry on the brochure. "Can you tell me what dressage means? Is that where they dress up the horse for a parade or something?"

They started to laugh. Apparently I was wrong.

The one in the yellow hat smiled wider. "No, it's pronounced dress_age_ and it's a very disciplined equestrian sport, sort of a ballet"

I frowned. "A ballet?" I raised my eyebrows, wondering if Foster had flipped his lid when he told me to bid on this horse. I wanted a cutting horse, not a fucking ballet dancer.

The other woman raised an eyebrow that disappeared in her pink hat as she looked me up and down. "The horses at this auction are _English_ horses. You won't find any cow horses here, cowboy."

I ignored her comment and pointed to something else on the stats. "What about this number here? What does the ten mean?"

"The temperament of a horse is measured from one to ten, one being a very calm demeanor."

I nodded in clear understanding. She didn't have to explain any further. "So ten means…psycho killer."

"Well, yes, that sounds about right."

I sat back and shook my head in disbelief. I was going to kill Foster. He was a dead old man. I drove all the way from Dillon, Texas in my pickup truck, pulling a thirty foot trailer loaded with a car that weighed over 3500 pounds. And now I was expected to spend my life's savings, and possibly lose the car, to buy a psycho horse.

Not happening!

I got up and walked out of the tent. _Mother fucker!_ Now I'd have to leave empty handed. I dialed Foster's number, mentally preparing myself to give the stupid old ex-drunk a huge piece of my mind.

He answered on the second ring. "Hey, kid, did you get the horse?"

"No, I didn't get the horse. You forgot to tell me he's a ten, Foster. Do you know what a ten means? That's at the top of the temperament scale. I might as well buy a great white shark. Not to mention the nag is only good for Driving or Dress_aaage_…" I emphasized the word the way that lady with the yellow hat had done.

"All right, Tim. Just settle down. The temperament is not an issue, son. We can work that out of him. As far as the training, I told you I can teach an elephant to cut cows."

I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed in frustration. "I came all the way up here for nothing. Do you have any idea how much I spent on gas alone?"

"Listen to me and trust what I'm telling you. Buy that horse, Tim. Buy him. You won't regret it, I promise you."

"Whatever. I'll call you later." I hit End and wanted to throw my phone across the parking lot. I took a deep breath and stood outside the tent for several more minutes, wondering if I was crazier than Foster to believe him. "Shit!" I kicked at the dirt and went back inside the tent.

The auction had already begun and a variety of horses were brought in one at a time for bidding. I saw a lot of good looking horse flesh, but I didn't bid because my interest had to remain on the spawn from Satan.

When the number fifteen horse was led away, I sat up straighter in my chair.

"Next up is Lot Number Sixteen, Strike While It's Hot."

A huge horse was led in…Or rather the horse was leading the handler. Two others rushed in to help as the stallion reared and snorted and jogged around the pen. He had the longest and thickest mane and tail I had ever seen on a horse. He was as black as infinity and had hooves the size of turkey platters.

The two ladies I had been talking to turned to look at me. Then when they turned away, they both started to laugh.

What in the hell made James Foster think this animal would make a great cutting horse?

"This Friesian is from the Star Preferant stallion Avatar 674 by the Star mare Contessa."

I watched with my mouth open as the handlers tried to get the stallion to stand still, but he wouldn't have it. He bolted and jumped the short rail around the auction pen, taking out the first two rows of folding chairs. Fortunately they were empty. He dragged the handlers by the lead rope attached to his halter. Any other time I probably would have been laughing my head off along with everyone else.

"He…he stands at 16.2 hands and is guar…he's guaranteed to make a fine dressage candidate." The nervous auctioneer quickly backed away as the stallion snorted and whirled his rear end around, nearly knocking down the podium.

The handlers finally managed to coax the stallion back into the pen, but they couldn't keep him from rearing and screeching. He tossed his head, his mane flying all over the place. This horse was a train wreck. He would demolish my trailer to pieces.

I leaned back in my seat and shook my head. "This is so fucked up," I said to myself.

"The bidding will start at four thousand. Do I hear four thousand…" And then he went into the fast talk that auctioneer's do.

I tilted my head back and stared at the roof of the tent. Fine, I would bid, but if someone else bid after me, I was done. I reluctantly held up my number.

"I have four thousand. Do I hear five, five, make it five…" Blah blah blah.

When after a few seconds I realized no one else was bidding, I was getting a little worried. I glanced around and everyone seemed more interested in watching the handlers trying to keep the stallion from bolting again.

My brother's words rang in my head. _"Tim, you need to find yourself a hobby that won't cause bodily harm. Even on a well-trained cutting horse, you can fall off and get trampled."_ It was like he had completely forgotten I played football in high school and bodily harm was in my blood.

"I've got four, make it five, five, can I get five, four thousand going once, four thousand going twice." He slammed his gavel down. "Sold for four thousand dollars to the long-haired gentleman in the back."

I released the breath I had been holding.

Fuck…

Everyone turned around and looked at me like I had just come down in a flying saucer. Yeah, that's right, stare at the lunatic about to transport a crazy horse over 3,000 miles, from Seattle, Washington to Dillon, Texas.

Maybe Billy was right. I needed to find a less dangerous hobby, like alligator wrestling or swimming with piranhas.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

* * *

When the police arrived, the restaurant was complete chaos. Employees and customers were telling their version of what they saw. Some were crying hysterically, as if they had been the ones with a gun pointed to their face, they had been the ones the robber shot at.

But no one had seen his face except me.

Holding a bag of frozen peas over the left side of my face, I described the robber in great detail, from his coal black eyes down to the hairy mole on the right side of his nose.

Detective Christian Clay sat directly in front of me, his hands holding my free hand. "This man is dangerous, Julie. He's killed six people. He normally doesn't hesitate. You're lucky to be alive."

_I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry._ _I wasn't going to cry._ I had been repeating those words to myself ever since the detective sat me down. But my eyes decided they weren't going to listen to me anymore. They welled up with tears and they fell down my face.

"We've been after him for the last eight months," he continued. "But he's been a man without a face because no one has ever seen it until now. He's robbed five banks and since this is the first time he's come after a restaurant, he's growing pretty desperate."

I looked up at the red-haired detective. "He knows I saw his face."

Detective Clay nodded. "Yes. He knows you can identify him."

I wiped at my eyes and put the bag of peas over my face again. It hurt like hell. How bad was the bruise going to be? Then I remembered it could have been worse. I could have had no face at all if he had shot me.

"Do you have somewhere you can go besides here in Portland?" he asked.

I nodded. "I was planning to go back to my hometown in three weeks for a wedding. Two of my friends are getting married."

"Where's your hometown?"

"Texas. Dillon, Texas."

"Well, Julie, it looks like you'll be going to Dillon a lot sooner than you planned." He squeezed my hand. "I want you to go home, pack your things as quickly as you can. Don't stop or do anything else along the way. Then get the hell out of Portland. In fact, the Portland airport is probably not your best bet. Head south to Salem, maybe even Eugene. And you need to stay off the main highways out of the city. Do you hear what I'm saying to you?"

I nodded again.

He released my hand and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. "I want you to give me your cell number. As soon as we catch him, I will personally call you and tell you myself. You'll need to return to identify him and possibly testify in court, but not right away."

I rattled off my cell number and he programmed it into his phone.

Then he handed me a business card. "If you need anything or need to talk about what happened, promise you'll call me."

I nodded a third time.

"You're a brave girl, Julie. What you did was very heroic."

So here's the thing…the day started out bad and got worse when I nearly got my face shot off, and just when I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse than that…

Well, it did.

It got worse. The kind of worse you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. The sad country music kind of worse.

I pulled into my assigned parking space where I lived. As I got out of the car, I noticed Henry's car was still where he normally parked it. He was still home? Maybe he wasn't feeling well and decided to call in sick. But it was perfect. I could tell him what happened. I needed someone to hold me. Maybe I'd even let him kiss me.

And then I noticed a yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked nearby. It looked oddly familiar, like I had seen it parked at work every day for the last three years. I didn't give it a second thought because I knew there had to be more than one yellow Volkswagen Beetle in Oregon.

I walked into the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor. As I unlocked the door of my apartment, I was mentally going over my notes. Drive to the airport in Salem. Pack my things. Stay off the main highways. Get the hell out of Portland. Go back to the apartment. Don't stop along the way.

Obviously not in that order.

What was I going to pack? I had planned on shopping in a few days for my trip back to Dillon. There wouldn't be any time now. Detective Clay told me to leave immediately.

I opened the door and was suddenly greeted by grunting sounds. Odd grunting sounds. The kind that were made in certain NC-17 movies.

Henry's bedroom door was closed. And that's where the sounds were coming from.

I walked up to the closed door and listened and then I flung it open.

Henry was in bed…on top of someone.

"Oh God…!" I shouted.

He froze and spun around to face me, dislodging himself from the woman beneath him, and it figures, it was Bridgett.

I didn't know what to say. The sight of Henry's naked ass in the air was utterly repulsive. I gagged in disgust and walked out.

Two minutes later, Henry was in my room. "What're you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I was packing my clothes into two suitcases.

"What the hell happened to your face?"

I wasn't even going to provide any kind of explanation. He didn't deserve to know. I wanted him to think I was leaving because I had found him in bed with Bridgett. God, I hated that girl. Or maybe not. Afterall, she had given me a reason to tell Henry there was no way I'd go out with him now. So maybe I didn't hate her that much.

"Well, what do you expect, Julie?" Henry argued. "We've been living together for three years. I asked you out and then nothing."

I stopped packing and stared at him with my mouth open. "Well, I told you I needed more time and you said you were fine with waiting."

"That was before I realized you meant _forever_."

From the corner of my eye I saw Bridgett coming out of Henry's bedroom, dressed in her jean shorts and tank top. She took her time walking to the door, making sure I could see her.

"Family emergency, my ass!" I shouted out to her.

Then I heard the front door close. She was gone.

I continued throwing things into my suitcase. "I'm going to my friend's wedding and after that, I don't know."

Henry rubbed his chin. "Okay, that's fine. We can talk about it when you get back. Yeah, okay." He walked out of my bedroom.

Little did Henry Pelican know, I wasn't planning on coming back to this apartment ever again.

* * *

**(Tim's POV)**

After I signed the transfer of ownership form and handed over four thousand dollars, the owner handed over the horse's papers and gave me a casual salute. "Vaya con dios, amigo," he said with a laugh as he walked away.

It took the same three handlers and three separate ropes to bring the psycho stallion to my trailer. I opened the side door and dropped the ramp.

One of the handlers pointed to the rear of the trailer. "It'd be easier if we loaded him from the back."

I shook my head. "Not happening, partner. I've got a classic car back there and I'm not unloading it."

While the handlers continued to be dragged by the horse around the parking, a pickup truck loaded with hay bales pulled up. A grubby bearded man got out. "I can give you four bales of hay, some grain and a bucket for water. After that, you're on your own."

I agreed and went up the ramp to make sure the wall between the car compartment and the horse compartment was secure. I pulled open the door of a smaller compartment and that's where the man tossed in the four bales of hay and a ten pound bag of grain. He handed me a bucket and I secured it on a clipped hook on the side.

I scratched the back of my head as I watched the handlers wrestling to get the horse loaded into the trailer. After about ninety-six failed attempts, I shook my head in disgust and went into the glove box of my truck. I grabbed a handful of firecrackers and tied the wicks together.

The hay man was leaning against his pickup, smoking a cigar. I walked up and stood beside him and waited until the handlers had the horse facing the ramp again. I grabbed the hay man's cigar, lit the firecrackers and tossed them on the ground behind the horse. They went off loudly. The hay man laughed out loud as the horse screeched and flew up the ramp, dragging all three handlers with him.

I handed back his cigar. "This is gonna be a long trip."

A few minutes later, the handlers came down the ramp, their faces covered in sweat. It was pretty hysterical. But I didn't laugh because I figured I'd look like that soon enough when I had to load and unload that animal by myself over the next few days as I headed back home to Texas.

Before the handlers left, I gave each of them a good tip for their aggravation and they walked away, wiping the sweat off their faces. The hay man got in his pickup and drove off with a wave of his hand.

I turned to the trailer as the banging began. That freak of a horse was going to knock the walls down. I walked up the ramp and side stepped his swinging rear end. I quickly grabbed the side of his halter and held it firmly as I looked him right in the eye. "You listen here, Striker. If you break anything on this trailer, so help me, I'll take you straight to a glue factory? Trust me, you don't want that. Now you are gonna play nice and deal with your shit quietly. Do we understand each other?"

He blew a strong blast of air out of his nostrils.

I released his halter and went into another compartment. This one contained my cooler full of ice and beverages. I grabbed five bottles of water and poured each of them into the bucket. "This is the good stuff for now, but don't get spoiled." I looked up and his black eye was staring back, probably assessing me. "Are you hungry? How about I feed you before we hit the road."

His ear turned. Was he listening to my voice.

I looked at my watch. It was 12:30 in the afternoon. If I hit the road by 1:00pm, I could be out of Washington and halfway through the state of Oregon by nightfall before I had to stop for the night.

* * *

With the worst behind me, I figured anything that happened from that moment on had to be nothing in comparison. Nothing.

Right?

And now all I was trying to do was get out of Portland as quickly as possible, avoiding the major interstate for very valid reasons, and my piece of shit car decided it was time to crap out. Piece Of Shit, or POS, for short, that's what I named it three years ago when I bought it from a crooked car salesman, whose business conveniently vanished a week later.

But I digress.

Being stuck in the middle of nowhere, on a very deserted road that went on for hundreds of miles with nothing but forest in every direction, was not my idea of an escape. With my hands on my bare hips, I angrily kicked Piece of Shit's tire with my thick-soled, high-heeled boot. And now my toe hurt.

I went into my purse and pulled out my cell phone. Not that the GPS on it would tell me where the hell I was. However, it could tell me how far away I was from where the hell I was supposed to be, but wasn't. Sixty-five miles to Salem. Lovely. So who could I call? A tow truck? And how was I going to get to the airport in Salem?

I looked down at my cell phone and decided to call my dad. It was my last resort. But I decided I wasn't going to tell him about the robbery yet. I'd wait until I got home.

Dad answered on the third ring. "Hey, Jules, what's up?"

"Hi, Dad. So you think you can catch the next flight to Portland and help me with my car?" I asked him.

He laughed. "That's real funny, baby."

"I'm serious, Dad."

"Okay, calm down. What happened?"

"I don't know. It just died."

"Did you open the hood?"

"No. Hang on." I stepped over to the front of the car and popped open the extremely hot hood. At least I knew how to do that without breaking a nail. A cloud of thick smoke assaulted me and I stumbled backward away from the car. "I just got a mouthful of smoke. Hang on." I coughed and coughed, wondering if engine smoke caused cancer. "Okay, I think I'm good. What do I do?"

"What color's the smoke?" he asked.

"It's white."

"Hey, that's good."

"Good? How is smoke of any color considered good?"

"Well, I'm not a mechanic, but I think it might just mean you only need to put water in the tank."

"Tank? You mean like a fish tank?" I asked innocently and bent forward to inspect the engine more thoroughly. When it came to cars, I was a complete idiot. But so was my dad. As I was bent forward, I realized my short skirt was riding up and my ass was probably in full view, for everyone to see. I straightened up and looked around. There wasn't a soul in sight…I looked up at the sky and saw a hawk circling overhead. Or was it a buzzard? Did they have buzzards in Oregon?

"Jules? Are you there? Did you find the water tank?"

I turned back to the engine. "Uhm, what does it look like?"

"Honey, you are screwed."

"I know I'm screwed, Dad, but I really need you to tell me what to do anyway."

"Okay, what road are you on?"

"I'm on 12. I was on my way to the airport in Salem."

"Why are you going to Salem? Why didn't you just catch a flight out of Portland?"

I didn't know what to say, so I lied. "All the flights were booked."

"Well, what's the rush anyway? The wedding's not for another three weeks."

"I know, but I figured I'd come home early. I miss you and mom and Gracie."

"So how far away are you from Salem?" he asked.

"The GPS on my phone says 65 miles."

"So you didn't get very far out of Portland, did you?"

"No, but I'm seriously in the middle of nowhere."

He sighed. "Let me think for a minute. Hey, Tami, honey? Where the heck are ya?" I heard my mom's voice in the background. "Who did you tell me this morning was in Seattle?"

I couldn't hear what my mom was saying. I reached into the front seat of the car and retrieved the bottle of water I had been drinking. I took a long gulp and glanced up and down the vacant street. I might as well have been on a deserted island.

My dad came back on the phone. "Okay, give me a few minutes, Jules. I'll call you right back." He hung up on me.

I stared at the phone and then stared at the surrounding forest again. It was scary being out here alone. There wasn't a single car in sight. Didn't anyone use this road out of Portland? Well, maybe it probably wasn't the best road to be taking. It was just the less traveled road I was instructed by Detective Christian Clay to take. He said keeping off the major highways out of Portland was crucial…for my own safety.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

* * *

My cell phone rang. I quickly answered it. "Dad?"

"You know, Jules, you are one extremely lucky girl."

"Well, I don't feel very lucky at the moment."

"Your mother remembered that Tim Riggins was in the Seattle area and was heading home today."

Tim Riggins?

Dad went on. "I just got off the phone with him and he stopped in Redmond for the night. That's southeast of you. He said he'll swing by and get you."

The thought of seeing him again made me feel faint. Although the mere mention of his name was probably enough to put out my lights. "Really?" I tried to keep my voice neutral. "What's Tim doing in Seattle?"

"He was at a horse auction."

"Why was he at a horse auction?"

"What else do you do at a horse auction, Jules? I don't know. He bought a horse, I guess."

"Wait, he _drove_ all the way from Dillon to Seattle?"

"Well, he's not gonna put a horse on a plane, honey."

I looked at my watch. It was 5:30pm. "How long will it take him to get here?"

"He said maybe about an hour. Just sit tight and don't think about getting into anyone else's car, understood?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And don't worry. He'll find you."

I imagined he still had that old black pickup truck and was pulling a horse trailer. "Okay."

Three years had passed since I last saw Tim and because of him, I still couldn't get close to anyone else. There were so many nice guys that had asked me out, especially the ones that flirted with me at work. But I just couldn't find anything interesting in any of them. It was frightening. I didn't know what was wrong with me. My parents had no idea what had happened between Tim and I in high school. In fact nobody knew…I never even told my bestfriend, Lois. We both had an obscenely huge crush on Tim Riggins back then and she would have freaked if she knew what Tim and I had actually done.

"Hey…Jules." My dad brought me back to the present.

"Yeah?"

"Are you all right?"

Only a father would recognize that something was wrong. "Yeah, I'm good. I'll be fine."

My dad knew people in every state. If I told him what happened or mentioned the fresh bruise on the left side of my face, he would send someone to Oregon to deal with the situation. The robber wouldn't have a chance. Always the protective father. But now wasn't the right time for me to discuss the robbery…not on the phone.

"Did you break up with that dickhead?" That was my dad's favorite label lately for any guy I dated.

I rolled my eyes. Not that he could see my reaction. I probably never should have told my parents I was seeing anyone. "Sort of…"

"Well, honey, it's probably for the best. Maybe hanging with Riggins for a couple of hours will be just what you need to get your mind off whatever his name is."

"Henry," I replied, wondering why he would think Tim could preoccupy my mind.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll check on you later."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I'll see ya."

I hung up.

Tim Riggins was coming to my rescue. It was going to be torture just seeing him again. Then I remembered the bruise on my face. He would see it and question me and then I would have to tell him what happened.

An hour. What was I going to do while I waited for my knight in shining armor to come to my rescue?

I looked up. That damned buzzard was circling lower over my car. It probably hoped I was on the verge of death so it could feast on my corpse. I eyed the forest on both sides of the street. Were there any wolves or grizzly bears in the forest? I quickly jumped in my car and shut the door, just in case.

As I leaned my head against the headrest and released a heavy sigh, an image of Tim Riggins in full football uniform came to mind. Number thirty-three, fullback of the Dillon Panthers. I closed my eyes and smiled, picturing him removing his helmet, his sweat-soaked hair stuck to his forehead and his smile…That smile had been so easy for him back when things weren't so awkward between us. I really missed those days.

But one night changed it all. It unhinged our comfortable friendship and turned it upside down and inside out. Tim Riggins had been the first to ever touch me and from that moment on, I just couldn't even think about going there with anyone. I was convinced that no other guy could ever make me feel the way I did about Tim.

* * *

**Flashback – Five Years Ago**

My dad was head coach of the Dillon High School football team. Tim Riggins was one of his star players and I had known him since we moved to Dillon in my freshman year. I quickly learned he was the school rebel, always getting in trouble. Conceit oozed out of his pores. He was good-looking. He knew it and so did everybody else. Every girl wanted him in their pants and I was no exception. But he was a player who broke the heart of anyone he dated, never holding on to a relationship for more than a day unless there was sex involved. And even then, it never amounted to anything because Riggins was allergic to commitment.

I tried to ignore him through my first two years of school. It was all I could do. I wasn't going to fall all over him like everyone else did. I had my pride to consider, even though I didn't have the resolve or the common sense to stop fantasizing about being with him.

And then suddenly Tim was living in my house during my junior year at school. My dad said it was temporary, until Tim sorted out some kind of mess with his brother, Billy. The more I was subjected to Tim's presence, the harder I crushed on him. It was an infatuation I hoped I'd eventually get over.

It took a tornado to make me realize that my infatuation was more than an idol crush.

It was raining and I went to the store with Tim to get formula for my baby sister. The reporter on TV warned about a tornado in Dillon. Tim ran outside and then suddenly he ran back in and grabbed my hand. He dragged me away from the front of the store. I was terrified as I sat on the floor. He crouched and wrapped his entire body around me from behind, the side of his face pressed against my head. He shielded me as the store front windows all shattered. I screamed and Tim held me tighter. It sounded like a runaway freight train was passing through the store and it seemed to last forever.

It was from that moment on, after he saved my life, that I realized I was in love with him and willing to do anything.

My fate began with a dare, a hundred to one chance, and I was dealt a surprising hand. My bestfriend, Lois dared me to drop my name in the bucket for the annual rally girl selection. I didn't know what I was thinking at the time. I just never backed down from a dare. So I tossed my name in and sat down with everyone else. There were hundreds of names in that bucket. I was confident I had no chance of getting picked.

Tyra Colette, the class president, called each of the players and they picked the names from the bucket.

"And now we have everyone's favorite, fullback, number thirty-three, Tim Riggins."

Tim walked up and clapped his hands before rubbing them together. "Alright, ladies, you all remember I like chocolate chip cookies, right? And candy bars." He pointed to a girl sitting at the front table. "You remember that, right?"

Tyra held the bucket out to him.

Tim put his hand in and mixed the papers around. Finally he picked one and frowned as he saw the name. He shook his head before looking up. "Julie Taylor."

I heard the name but it didn't register until Lois jumped up and pointed to me.

"Here she is!"

What? Tim Riggins picked my name out of the hundreds in the bucket?

Lois grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. Then she gave me a shove in the direction of the stage. "You are damned lucky. I'll be living vicariously through you. Get up there!"

I was in complete shock as I made my feet walk to the stage and up the steps, while everyone clapped and cheered.

"Hey, Jules," Tim said.

"I…I guess I'm your rally girl?"

"Excellent," he said softly. "That's great." He led me off the stage by the arm and when he leaned in, I could smell his freshly showered scent. "So, you know what I like. Chocolate chips cookies, candy bars. Are you good in geography because I suck and I'll need you to do some of my homework."

I pulled my arm out of his grip the minute we were alone outside the cafeteria and turned to glare at him. "You're joking, right?"

"No, I'm not."

"I'm not doing your homework, Tim."

"Yeah, you are and I want those cookies freshly baked. Not store bought."

"I'm not doing any of that for you."

"You're my rally girl for the year, Taylor. You get me whatever I want."

I shook my head. "No way."

He frowned. "Then why'd you put your name in the bucket?"

"It was a bet. I didn't think anyone would actually pick it."

"Well, that's too bad. You're stuck. Cookies, candy bars, homework," he ticked off on his fingers. "Not necessarily in that order."

"Cookies, candy bars and homework? That's it?"

He stepped even closer. "Yeah, what else did you think I'd want from you?"

I swallowed thickly, thoroughly intimidated by his size…a wall of temptation I couldn't climb over, or break down. Not even with a sledgehammer. Oh, the things I could think of doing for him…but it was all in my head. It wasn't anything I ever actually planned in real life.

He looked into my eyes. "If you want a quick roll in the back of my truck, Taylor, I'm all for it."

I tried my best to sound unaffected by the invitation I fantasized about day and night. Was he kidding me with those eyes? They were the color of a wet meadow in the spring time. He had to know how affected I really was. "That's never going to happen," I uttered. I tried to believe my own words, but it was impossible with those eyes so completely focused on me.

He shrugged and looked elsewhere. "Yeah, probably not. Coach would murder me." He smiled and walked away.

I stood in the hallway, my knees literally shaking like jello.

**End of Flashback**

* * *

I jolted awake, not even realizing I had fallen asleep. I glanced at my watch. It was a little after 7:00pm and the sun was starting to disappear over the tops of the trees.

A loud sound made me get out of the car and stand at the edge of the road. The rumbling sounded like thunder and was headed my way from the opposite lane. It wasn't long before a car raced passed me at some ungodly speed. A second later the driver hit the brakes and skidded about five hundred feet before coming to a complete stop sideways across both lanes of the highway. There was a slight pause and I could see the driver, in dark sunglasses, looking in my direction.

Then I remembered I was still wearing my work clothes from Gothic Treasures. The very sexy, revealing outfit I loved so much and had completely forgot to change out of before I left the apartment with my meager belongings. What if the guy in the car was a rapist? Or even worse, what if it was him, the robber coming to kill me? I dug into my purse for the small can of mace.

The driver started to back up. It was a black car, with double white stripes on the hood and trunk. The engine was loud and obnoxious. It came to a halt next to me. "Fight Inside" by Red was blaring from the stereo. And then the volume was lowered.

I pointed the mace in the car's direction. "I have a man-eating pitbull in the back seat of my car and he will attack and eat your face off!"

The driver leaned his head out the window. "Jules?"

My mouth fell open. It was Tim. The long, light brown hair, the full lips and behind the dark shades, I knew those tempting green eyes were staring back at me. He looked the same. Not that three years would have changed his appearance much. But even after all that time, the sight of him affected me. I was still infatuated, still obsessed, still crazy in love with him…all of those feelings assaulted me at once.

And now here he was…driving a sports car? I had been expecting his old Chevy Silverado, pulling a horse trailer. So where was the horse then?

Coming back to my senses, I pretended not to recognize him and threatened with the mace again.

He proceeded to back up onto the side of the road in front of my car and turned off the engine. Then he got out and started walking toward me, his hands raised in a defenseless manner. Just the sight of his lithe frame in torn faded blue jeans and a white teeshirt…he still made my knees shake. "Don't you know who I am?" He took off his sunglasses, as if that was what would be necessary for me to recognize him.

"Tim…"

He came up and surprised me with an all encompassing embrace. He was like a warm Tim Riggins blanket, covering me with his powerful arms. I basked in the heat of his chest and the smell…sweat and barn animals. The scent coming out of his clothes and his pores was disgusting and intoxicating at the same time and I inhaled it all in.

For the first time all day, after everything that had happened to me, I finally felt completely safe. And unfortunately that's when the floodgates suddenly opened and I started balling like a baby as he cradled my head against him.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm here." His hands moved up and down my back. "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you, Jules. I thought I was on the wrong road and I started panicking because it was gonna get dark soon."

I pulled away and shook my head, wiping at my eyes. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. I'm just having a really, _really_ bad day. Thanks for coming to get me."

My face turned thirty shades of red as he looked down at my clothes in a very slow, deliberate way and it sent a shiver through me.

When he looked back up, he frowned at the sight of my face. "What the hell is this?" he asked, his fingers moving my bangs aside.

I looked down with a quick shake of my head. "It's nothing." When I looked back up at him, he raised his eyebrows and looked in my eyes for a moment. I knew he was trying to figure it all out without me saying anything.

Then he turned to my car. "Well, let's have a look," he said in a soft voice.

I was glad he dropped the subject of my face, but noticed him glance back at me again before he bent over my car's engine and inspected things. I knew he would want an explanation soon.

After a minute or so, Tim straightened up and walked back to me. "Yeah, it's definitely dead. You should have put it out of its misery a long time ago. Were you planning to drive this thing all the way to Dillon?"

"No, I was heading for the airport in Salem."

He frowned at me. "Don't they have an airport closer to where you live?"

I sighed. "It's a long story."

When I didn't volunteer any more answers, he asked "Is your suitcase in the trunk?"

"Yeah, just a couple of things." I followed him to the trunk where I had two suitcases and three boxes. My entire life was in the trunk of that clunker.

"A couple of things?" He gave me a sardonic look.

Tim helped me transfer my stuff from my trunk to his trunk. Before he closed the lid, I went into one of my suitcases and retrieved a pair of skinny jeans, a top and some flip flops.

As he closed the trunk lid, I walked toward the passenger side.

"Hey, what about your pitbull?" he asked, his thumb pointing to my wreck.

"I don't really have a dog. I just wasn't sure it was you." I slid into the passenger side.

He got in, started the engine and revved it several times before he released the break and threw the gearshift into first. I held on as he made a u-turn and headed in the direction he had come from.

As I watched him shift and accelerate, his eyes looked at my clothes again and he still didn't comment. My work clothes were intended to draw male eyes. I felt self-conscious, like he was judging me by my attire.

I glanced over my shoulder to look out the back window at the quickly diminishing sight of my car, saying a silent good-bye for all the good times. When I faced forward again, I glanced around the cabin of Tim's car. "Let's talk about this car! It's sick!"

"I hope you mean that in a good way."

"Yeah, like way cool. What kind of car is this?"

"It's a 1969 Chevy Chevelle. I call her Mad Maxine."

The car was stunning and modernized, with an elaborate stereo and GPS screen. I briefly wondered where he got the money to buy such a car, and a horse, for that matter.

"So, how've you been?" he asked. "How's school?"

"It's pretty good. I'm on summer break."

"Heading home for the wedding?"

"Yeah. It's a little early, but…" I shrugged. "It'll be good to see everyone again."

He nodded. "Yeah." He briefly looked in my direction. "You know, I gotta ask, Jules. Why are you dressed like this?"

"These are my work clothes." I saw his curious frown and felt compelled to explain further. "I'm a waitress at a restaurant called Gothic Treasures. Sort of like Hooters in a dark dungeon."

"Seriously? This outfit is way hotter than what they wear at Hooters."

I had been working at Gothic Treasures for the last three years and had received many, many compliments. But coming from Tim, it really made me blush. "The tips are great," I added. "I make good money there."

"Yeah, I'll bet."

I wanted to change the subject fast. "When I talked to my dad, he told me you were in Seattle buying a horse?"

He smiled, his eyes remaining on the road. "Yeah. It's crazy, huh?"

"So where is it?"

"He's in the trailer. I left the truck and trailer at the motel in Redmond."

"Wait a minute. How are you driving two vehicles?"

"It's a big trailer. I had the car in the back. The horse is in the front."

I laughed. "Why don't you start from the beginning because I am really, really confused. I mean, there are probably like twenty thousand horses for sale in Texas. Why did you go all the way to Seattle and why did you haul this car with you?"

"You remember old man Foster?"

"The drunk who lost his leg in Vietnam?"

"Yeah, but he's on the wagon now. But anyway, he gave me a hot tip, I went and I won the bid. I was gonna use this car as a trade, in case the bidding got higher than the cash I had in hand. Luckily I didn't have to part with it."

"What're you going to do with the horse? Trail ride on your property?"

"Strike While It's Hot. That's his registered name. I was told he has the potential to be an outstanding cutting horse. With Foster's help, I'm gonna train him, put him in some competitions, maybe win the championship, and then…" He glanced at me with enthusiasm. "And then…I offer him up for breeding. It's a win/win situation."

I tried to envision Tim Riggins riding a cutting horse, or any horse. It wasn't such a bad image. "That's pretty ambitious."

He shrugged. "Well, I gotta do something."

I glanced at the GPS screen. "Can we stop at a gas station so I can change my clothes?"

"I didn't come across any on the way here, for at least a hundred miles. There's really nothing on this road. I can get you to the airport in Salem in about an hour, if you can wait that long."

"Oh," I said, unable to mask the disappointment in my voice. I thought we would have a little more time to spend together. "Right. The airport. That's fine." I felt his eyes on me and resisted the urge to turn to him.

"Unless you wanna skip the airport and drive back to Dillon with me," he said. "I could really use some help with the horse."

"How long will it take to get to Dillon?"

"Three days if I drive straight through, but not with a horse. Plus I was gonna stop in Vegas for a couple of days. They're holding the U.S. Cutting Horse Championship this weekend and I wanted to check it out and see what I'm getting myself into. It'd be more fun if I had some company."

I chewed on my lower lip. His invitation was tempting.

He shrugged. "Whatta you say, Taylor? You wanna go to Vegas with me?"

I smiled without looking at him. "I say Vegas is exactly what I need right now."

"That's awesome. Vegas it is."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

* * *

As Tim drove, I glanced over my shoulder at the back seat. Maybe I could change back there. It looked big enough. I removed my seatbelt and bent forward to unbuckle and remove my boots. The black stockings came off next. Then I took off the studded leather wrist guards and the collar from around my neck.

"What're you doing?" Tim briefly turned and watched me start to crawl into the back seat.

It wasn't easy with the short skirt hanging so low on my hips. "Changing my clothes." From the corner of my eye, I saw him turn again and he was greeted with my ass in a black thong. I hadn't intended on sticking it in his face, but I couldn't help it. It wasn't exactly the most graceful way to get into the back seat.

I met his eyes and when I started to untie my short white top, he immediately faced forward again.

As I pushed my skirt off, I saw his eyes watching me through the rear view mirror.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're running from?" he asked.

"What makes you think I'm running from anything? I'm going to Dillon for the wedding. Landry and Tyra."

"Two suitcases, three boxes of stuff, a funky lamp, a laptop…I dunno. Looks to me like you just moved out. And I know you weren't crying back there because your car died."

I slid into my jeans and when I pulled the top over my head, I noticed his eyes were still on me in the mirror. But I didn't volunteer anymore information.

"It's fine," he finally said with a sigh. "I thought maybe you'd wanna get it off your chest. But we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

I crawled back into the front seat and once I was settled in, I looked out the window. The silence became uncomfortable. I liked it better when we were talking. "I came home from work early this afternoon and found my boyfriend getting it on with one of my co-workers." I shrugged. Henry wasn't technically my boyfriend, but I wanted Tim to think he was. "He made it out like it was my fault."

"Is that from him?"

"What?" I turned to look at him.

"That bruise on your face."

"No. This happened at work. I…I wasn't watching where I was going and I hit the wall."

His cheek clenched. He obviously didn't believe me.

"You're better off without him," he finally said.

"I know." I didn't want to tell Tim about the attempted robbery at work and I didn't want to tell him that a killer was on the loose, probably searching for me all over Portland.

I pulled down the visor and looked at myself in the mirror. In horror I realized my black eye makeup was smeared all over my face. I looked like a hooker who had a very bad night. It probably happened when I had cried my eyes out on his shoulder. I noticed my makeup was on his white teeshirt, but I was afraid to tell him. "Do you have any Kleenex?" I asked.

He looked at me with that look. That innocent 'I'm a guy, so you can't expect me to have that kind of stuff' look.

I sighed. He was such a hard habit to break.

* * *

**Flashback – Five Years Ago**

I walked down the school hallway in the direction of my locker, a brown paper bag full of cookies in my hand. I baked them the night before and a smile crept up on my face as I remembered the ingredients I used. When I reached my locker, I turned the combination on the lock and opened the door. My attention went to the commotion down the hallway as everyone fell all over themselves to greet Tim Riggins. I rolled my eyes and pretended to ignore it all.

"Hey, Taylor." His voice was suddenly directly behind me. "Is that for me?"

I glanced down at the bag and turned around to face him with a smile. "Yeah. I made them last night."

Tim took the bag and reached in for a chocolate chip cookie. "So does this mean you'll do my homework, too?" His smiling eyes were on me as he took a bite and chewed. And then his happy face changed. He coughed and spit the cookie back into the bag. His eyes came up to my face and he looked totally pissed. "Are you trying to kill me?"

I gave him an innocent look and shrugged. "I never said I could bake." I purposely used salt instead of sugar. And I mean, a lot of salt.

With a disgruntled look on his face, Tim shoved the paper bag back in my hands and walked away. When he was halfway down the hall, I saw him look over his shoulder at me. I tossed the bag into the garbage and laughed as I turned back to my locker. That should give him a hint that I wasn't going to bow down to his every whim like all his past rally girls.

**End of Flashback**

* * *

A little after 8:30pm, Tim pulled into the parking lot of a motel. A few feet away from the building was his black pickup truck and hitched to the rear bed was the longest horse trailer I had ever seen in my life.

"I'll see if the room next to mine is available," Tim said as he got out of the car.

I got out, too. "How many beds are in your room?"

"There's two."

I seriously didn't want to sleep in a motel room by myself. "Why can't I just stay in your room then?"

He leaned on the roof of the car. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable, Jules."

"I'm not uncomfortable. We're adults. I'm sure we can safely share a motel room without any…weirdness. Right?"

"All right." He nodded and started walking toward the trailer. "You wanna see him?"

"Sure."

Tim unlocked and opened a door on the side of the trailer and stepped inside. I followed and in the darkness I could make out a very large shape against the back wall. He flipped a switch and a small light came on.

My jaw dropped when I saw the horse. "Oh my God, Tim. He's beautiful." I moved toward the horse.

"Wait…Jules…careful, he's not…"

I went up and stroked the side of his massive neck.

"…not very friendly," Tim said, clearing his throat.

"What're you talking about? Look how gentle he is." I turned to look over my shoulder at Tim and saw the surprised look on his face.

"This isn't how he was when I bought him. He was a thoroughly pissed off wrecking ball."

"Maybe he just didn't like his previous owner or the handlers." I caressed the horse's face. "What's his name again?"

"Strike While It's Hot. I've been calling him Striker."

I noticed his ears moved every time Tim spoke. "He's listening to you, Tim. I think he likes the sound of your voice."

Tim came up beside me and ran his hand over the horse's back. "You think so?"

I tilted my head. "You said you're gonna train him to cut cows? Friesians aren't built for that kind of sport."

He looked at me. "You know something about this breed?"

"When we lived in Tennessee, I took riding lessons. And in my advanced classes, I rode a Friesian a couple of times. Not quite as big as this guy, but it was an amazing ride. Are you sure old man Foster told you to get a Friesian?"

"I'm positive. And it was this particular one, too. I saw another one at the auction and he wasn't as wild. That one went for thirty-nine grand."

I ran my fingers through Striker's long mane. "His body type is the old classic baroque style. A lot rarer than the smaller sport build. You must have spent a lot on him."

"No, I actually didn't. He only cost me four thousand dollars. I think it's because of the way he acted. I mean, he was all over the place, knocking things over and rearing and freaking out. He was a ten on the temperament scale."

I had been in love with the breed for years after I had ridden one in my equestrian classes and I had done a lot of research. "Personally I don't think he liked whatever gig he was in before you bought him. The breed is known to sometimes bond with a single person. Maybe you're the one."

Tim walked to a panel and opened it. "I hope so, since I'm gonna be risking my neck on his back." He separated an armful of hay from a bale and tossed it on the ground. Then he walked over and loosened the rope tied to the trailer wall so Striker could lower his head to eat. Then he pushed open one of the windows and looked out. "Are you hungry? We can get something to eat at one of the local joints."

"What're the choices?"

"Let's see, we've got Peggy's Diner or there's Peggy's Diner…or for something off the beaten path…Peggy's Diner."

I laughed and walked up next to him. "You know where I think we should go?"

We both said it at the same time. "Peggy's Diner."

He turned to me and our eyes met and for that brief moment, as we stood close together, I saw something in those eyes. Maybe it was a small spark of interest…or maybe it was just the way the low light played in his eyes. It was more than likely my overactive imagination.

"Let's go eat," he finally said. "I'm starved." He turned off the light and waited for me to hop out of the trailer first.

After closing and locking the trailer door, we walked across the street.

Peggy's Diner was a typical country diner, with very typical country food. We ordered cheeseburgers, fries and milk shakes and sat opposite each other in a booth.

Tim had never been very vocal, but when he had something to say, there was no stopping him, so I let him talk as we ate. "So I'm sitting there wondering what would happen if I just mixed the shit together."

"I can't believe you did it."

"Oh yeah, I did it. Blew a hole in the ceiling, singed off one of my eyebrows."

"And you were suspended for an entire month."

"You remember that?" he asked.

"Of course I remember. The whole school was talking about it." I didn't add that I remembered everything he ever did. But I didn't want to remind him how badly I had crushed on him in high school.

"I don't remember ever hearing you do anything crazy when you were in school," he said. "Straight A student, Coach and Mrs Coach's daughter."

"That's because you were too busy partying to notice anything I did."

"You seriously still think I didn't notice you? Weren't you the one in the bathroom with me at that party on Homecoming night?"

"That's because I was your rally girl. Any other time, you just thought I was a geek."

He nodded and laughed. "Yeah, you're right, I did."

I threw a fry at him and it bounced off his forehead. "You don't have to agree."

"Jules, I didn't even recognize you on the side of the road earlier. I almost didn't stop."

"I have to believe you would have stopped for a helpless girl wearing a mini-skirt and a short top, even if it hadn't been me."

He rolled his light green eyes. "I was looking for _you_. I wasn't looking for any distractions. But you're right. I would have at least called a cab for the helpless girl."

I bit my lower lip and looked away from the intensity of those eyes. He had no idea what they did to my insides. Every time he was this close, where I could actually see the contrasting colors in his irises, my stomach dropped like I was on a rollercoaster. I needed to distract myself from those eyes. "Lois and I pulled a pretty good prank once."

"Yeah? What'd you do?" he asked, oblivious to my pleasant discomfort.

"We snuck into the boys locker room while they were practicing on the basketball court and poured itching powder into her ex-boyfriend's jeans. He didn't stop scratching himself for hours. We still laugh about it."

"Itching powder. That's pretty nasty. What'd he do to deserve that?"

"He dated her to make someone else jealous."

"That's bad." He raised his cup to drink his shake through the straw.

"It was another guy."

Tim nearly choked. "Okay, that's really bad," he said laughing.

"I know, right?"

"So this wedding is kind of a shock," he said with a laugh.

"Who would have thought Tyra and Landry would ever get married?"

"No really. How did Tyra and Landry even happen in this universe?"

I shrugged and shook my head.

"Are you the maid of honor?" he asked.

"Nope. Her sister Mindy had plenty to say about that, so I'm one of the other bridesmaids. I suppose Matt is the best man."

"I'm pretty sure. Landry asked me to stand up, too, so maybe we'll get lucky and be paired up."

I nodded. "Yeah, then we can dance together, for at least one dance."

"Hopefully more than one."

"Alright, maybe two." My cell phone buzzed on the table and I watched it bounce around. I glanced at the display, expecting it to be Henry for the thirty-seventh time, of which I didn't answer. But it wasn't Henry. "It's Dad." I answered it. "Hi, Dad."

"Hi, honey. Did Riggins find you?"

"Yeah, he did. We're having a bite at a diner."

"I thought you said you were going to the airport in Salem?"

"I was, but I decided I'm gonna just drive to Dillon with Tim. He needs help with this totally amazing horse he bought."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, I'm positive. And Dad, you should see his cool car, too."

"Yeah, honey, I've seen it."

"Besides, I can use the time to clear my head, you know."

"Okay, if that's what you want to do. I'll transfer some money into your account in the morning. You pay for your own accommodations and your own food, all right? Don't let Tim pay for everything."

"I know."

"And pitch in for gas, too."

"Okay."

"Good. Let me talk to Tim for a minute."

I held the phone out to Tim. "He wants to talk to you."

Tim put my phone to his ear. "Hey, Coach, what's up?"

I hoped my dad wasn't going to give him one of his awkward lectures.

"I checked it and that thing is definitely dead," Tim continued. "I put a call to a towing company situated just outside of Portland. They'll scrap it…" Pause. "No, I took care of it. It's no big deal…" Pause. "Yeah, I'm still planning to go to Vegas to catch the Cutting Horse Championship." He looked up at me. "And I think your daughter could use a full day at one of those Zen spas or something…" Pause. "What?..." He laughed at something my dad said. "No, sir, not for me, thanks…" Pause. "Yeah, we'll head straight over to Dillon after that. I'm thinking we'll probably get there no later than Wednesday." His eyes came up to mine again. "Sure thing, Coach, I'll make sure she's safe. I'll see ya." He handed the phone back to me.

"Dad?"

"Honey, I want you to stay with Riggins, okay? Don't go wandering off in Vegas and getting into trouble."

"I won't, I promise."

"Good. I've been to one of those cutting horse competitions. I think you'll enjoy it."

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll talk to ya later."

"Love you."

"I love you, too, honey."

I hung up and looked at Tim. He was smiling. "What?" I asked him.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Nothing."

"I know, I know. I'm twenty-one and he still treats me like I'm fifteen."

"He's just trying to protect you."

From the corner of my eye I saw a policeman walk in. He sat at the counter and the waitress poured him a cup of coffee.

"What was the joke?" I asked.

"What joke?"

"When you said, not for me. What was so funny?"

He smiled again. "You don't wanna know."

"Was it about me?"

"No, it wasn't about you."

"Well, then tell me."

"He just made a comment about me getting a massage."

"Like what?"

"You don't wanna know," he repeated with a sigh.

"Yes, I do."

"He asked me if I was going to get a personal massage."

"A personal massage?"

"A hand job, all right?" he said in a whisper.

I squinted at him.

"See?" He pointed to my squinting eyes. "That right there is why I didn't wanna tell you."

"I can't believe you and my dad talk like that."

He shrugged. "We've gotten closer over the last couple of years. He's helped me out a lot. He's more like a father to me than my own old man. And Mrs Coach," he said, shaking his head. "She is fantastic. She helped me pick out furniture and decorated my house. You should see it."

"Whatever," I said, knowing he had changed the subject on purpose.

He glanced at his watch and stood up, grabbing the check off the table. "Let's go, Miss Whatever, before I demand to see Peggy about the lack of alcoholic beverages in this place."

"Let me pay for mine," I said sternly. "My dad insists."

"I think I can cover a couple bucks. You can buy me a beer next door." Tim walked toward the register, nodding at the officer who turned to look at him. He paid the check and then walked into the restroom.

The officer turned in my direction for several minutes. Why was he staring at me?

When Tim returned, he tossed a five on the table as I got out of the booth. Then he walked behind me as we left the diner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

After leaving the diner, we walked next door to a bar and went inside. The place was dark and dingy and reeked of tobacco smoke. There were two men and a woman sitting at the bar and some country tunes were playing on a jukebox.

"Whoa, look out for the crowd," Tim whispered behind me.

"You think we'll have to wait our turn to use the pool table?" I joked back. I pulled a ten out of my purse. "I'm buying. Get me a Bud Lite."

He snatched the ten from my fingers. "A Bud Lite is for pansies. I'll get you a beer that'll put hair on your chest."

"Do I look like I'd want hair on my chest?"

He laughed as he walked to the bar.

I went to the pool table and picked out a cue stick from the wall. As I was chalking it, Tim walked up with two bottles of beer.

He handed one to me. "Sorry, but they don't carry that girly brand. You'll have to settle for the manly version."

I rolled my eyes.

He ran his fingers through his long hair and picked out a cue stick. "Ladies first."

I broke the triangle of billiard balls and a solid orange went into a pocket.

"Are you gonna hustle me, Taylor?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, I'm a closet pool player." I aimed the stick.

"You're gonna miss this one. I know it." He took a swig from his beer. "Trust me."

I hit the white ball and it grazed my target without moving it much.

He walked up to me with a grin. "Told ya." He held his beer bottle out to me. "Hold this. It might take a while." He proceeded to drop all the striped balls as if they were connected to the pockets with a string. His aim was impeccable. The only ball left was the black one. "Eight ball in that corner pocket," he pointed out.

I decided to provide a little distraction. I sat on the corner of the pool table where he was aiming to drop the ball. Sitting like that effectively exposed a fair amount of skin at my back and maybe two or three inches of butt crack. I nonchalantly took a gulp from my beer bottle.

Tim struck the white ball and it barely grazed the black one. He straightened up and frowned at me.

I gave him an innocent look as he came around to me. "What? Why're you looking at me like that?"

"You know what you did." He yanked his bottle out of my hand. "Your turn."

I studied the table and planned out my strategy.

When I decided on a target, Tim stood on the opposite side and lifted his teeshirt, exposing his unbelievably well-defined, tanned torso all the way up to his neck. "Damn, it's really hot in here."

I struck the white ball and it harmlessly bounced off the edge of the table.

He raised an eyebrow in victory. "I can play your game all night, Taylor. I'll even drop trou in this very respectable establishment."

"Bullshit."

He put his beer down and his hands went to his belt.

When he started undoing it, I tossed the pool stick on the table and raised my hands in defeat. "Okay, you win, I lose."

He walked toward me and took my hand. "You are way too easy to fluster, Jules."

"I'm not flustered."

"Yeah, you are." He rubbed my knuckles with his thumb. "Look at the color on those cheeks."

"Yeah, because…you're doing that…and you're pissing me off."

"Oah, com'ere." He folded his arms around me and I got another whiff of that disgusting and fabulous scent of sweat and gasoline and horse. His arms were thick and muscular and probably capable of crushing my ribs and I loved the feel of them around me. He spun us around in an old fashioned dance move to "Amazed" by Lonestar. "You like it when I piss you off."

If I didn't know him better, I could swear he was flirting with me. But that shouldn't have surprised me. He had always been that way with me. He continued holding me and spinning us to the country song and then Tim started to sing along completely off key. Whether or not it was on purpose, I didn't know.

"I wanna spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Forever and ever. Every little thing that you do, baby, I'm amazed by you."

The three customers and the bartender all clapped and whistled.

"Now you did it. We have an audience." I reluctantly removed myself from his arms.

"Thank you, thank you, people." He waved a hand for them to stop. "You're too kind. No, really. I suck, but thanks."

I laughed and raised my beer. "Yeah, Timmy, you really suck."

"Timmy? Since when should I allow you to call me _Timmy_?"

"You call me Jules, I'm gonna call you Timmy." I finished my beer. "We should head back," I suggested before he could grab me again for more dancing.

"There goes our entertainment," said the woman at the bar.

"Have a good night, y'all," Tim said as he held the door open for me.

We walked back across the street to the motel room.

"What time are we hitting the road in the morning?" I asked as he popped the car trunk so I could grab one of my suitcases.

"How does 9:00 sound?"

"9:00 is fine."

He unlocked the motel room door and stepped aside to let me in.

I glanced around the small room. There were two full size beds with a night stand between them. It was very sparsely decorated.

Tim pulled off his teeshirt and climbed on the bed closest to the door. Then with a groan, he rolled over on his back and closed his eyes.

I went into the bathroom and closed the door. The hot shower felt wonderful. When I came out of the bathroom wearing a towel, Tim hadn't moved and was probably asleep by now. I walked to my suitcase and pulled out shorts and a teeshirt. I slipped them on without removing my towel. Then I got in bed and turned off the light.

"Goodnight, Jules," he suddenly said in the darkness.

I thought he had been asleep. "Goodnight, Tim," I replied.

It was a restless night. I kept waking up and checking to see if he was still in the other bed. I was afraid he'd abandon me and then that killer would find me. I could hear Tim breathing a few feet away as he slept. Being this close to him was absolute torture. I literally wanted to jump into bed with him.

**Flashback – Five years ago**

I planned on losing my virginity when I was a junior in high school. Not on my wedding night, as I used to always dream about…I didn't want the glamour anymore or the loving words and promises or gentle caresses… I wanted my first time to be something hot and memorable and completely random.

Since I wasn't going to the Homecoming dance that night, I went to a party with Lois. There was plenty of alcohol to go around and loud music blared from the stereo. Aside from the constant invitations from guys who wanted to get down and dirty with me in some corner of some room, it was pretty tame. So far I hadn't found any prospects worthy enough to lost my virginity over.

I ended up playing quarters with Landry Clarke, but when he left, a guy named Riley sat down. I remembered him from one of my classes. So I started doing beer shots with him and the more I drank, the more impaired my judgment became and that was dangerous because I was ready to accept any invitation at this point.

Tim Riggins walked into the room and his eyes scanned the crowd, probably looking for his next conquest. I didn't realize I had been staring until his eyes happened to find mine.

The corner of his mouth curved into a crooked smile and he sat down in the chair Riley had vacated to get a beer. "Hey Taylor, you finally decided to crawl out of the convent and join the land of the living. That's a huge step. Good for you."

I pretended his presence didn't intimidate me. "Screw you, Tim."

He leaned close, sniffing the air near my face. Maybe I shouldn't have sprayed that perfume on myself before I left the house. "Anytime you want. Fifteen different ways, too." His breath smelled like whiskey. "You wanna lose your virginity, I'm your man."

How could he possibly know what I was looking for at this party? I placed my hands on his rock hard chest and shoved him away from me. "Keep dreaming. I wouldn't be caught dead with you between my legs."

He moved in close again, not getting the hint at all. "Thanks for the visual, Taylor. Except I'm imagining you quite alive. I don't think I'll be able to sleep at night without that image in my head."

I looked down to where his hand rested on my forearm. It didn't fully register that he was touching me until his thumb was lightly stroking circles over my flesh.

"Anytime you want, Jules."

I tried my best to snort in disgust, but couldn't stop my hands from moving along the hard plains of his chest as I pushed away from him. "I need another beer." I got up from the table.

The night just became more and more ominous. As I joked and laughed with some of my friends, from the corner of my eye I spied Tim moving through the room like a whirlwind. Every time I looked in his direction he was standing with a different girl, making them giggle disgustingly. With the latest, he was leaning against her ear, whispering things that were pleasing, judging by the blissful smile on her face.

I didn't want to admit it even in my own head that I desperately wanted to be the next girl. To be the object of his attention and his lust…even if it was a one-time thing. It disgusted me the way I wanted it so badly. What the hell was wrong with me? Why couldn't I be satisfied with the nice guys that asked me out? Did it mean I secretly wanted to be damaged by a bad boy? Why did I want to be subjected to that kind of mental and physical pain?

At 10:45, I didn't feel any positive vibes from any of the guys at the party, so I decided it was time to leave. But I couldn't find Lois. Luckily it wouldn't be a long walk home. Before I contemplated that, I needed to pee. Since the powder room smelled like vomit, I decided to venture further down the short hall and found a cleaner bathroom attached to the master bedroom. After taking care of my business, I opened the door and was about to walk out. Something stopped me in my tracks.

Tim's voice was coming down the hallway, toward the bedroom. "Just sit tight for a minute," he said. "I gotta take a leak."

Without thinking, I moved back into the bathroom and quickly slipped inside the bathtub, behind the shower curtain. I heard Tim walk in and close the door, pushing in the lock. He whistled as he moved to the toilet. His zipper went down and that was followed by the distinct sound of a stream of fluid falling into the toilet bowl.

I couldn't help myself. I silently snuck toward the edge of the shower curtain for a peek. Just then something fell behind me. It was a bottle of shampoo I accidentally bumped on the metal rack next to me.

The shower curtain flew open. "Taylor! What the fuck…!" He was blocking my view with his back. When he finished, he flushed the toilet and turned to face me with a smug smile. "You make a habit out of hiding in the shower at people's houses so you can watch them take a piss? I hate to tell you this, but some people don't like that."

When he moved toward me, I quickly hopped out of the bathtub, nearly taking the shower curtain down while trying to dodge his hands. I grabbed for the doorknob, but he was fast.

He pinned me against the wall. "That's kind of a sick obsession. Or maybe you were just waiting for me?"

"Yeah, Tim, I waited in the bathtub all night for you." I was being sarcastic, but he didn't hear it that way.

His hands went to my face and suddenly his lips were on mine.

I couldn't believe it. He was kissing me…hard. I moaned as he plundered my mouth.

He pulled away, his breath on my face. "How bad do you want it, Jules?" His voice was sultry. "Tell me." His hand came up and grasped my right breast, squeezing it firmly over my shirt.

I wanted to struggle, I really did. But I arched into his hand instead of away from it. I was going to let him have his way…because I wanted it.

That made him press me harder into the wall. He released my breast and slid his hand under my tank top. He yanked at my bra, pulling the cup away so his fingers were free to touch all of it. He kissed me again and ground himself against the juncture of my thighs.

His hand came off my breast and moved elsewhere, pushing up my skirt. In one swift movement he ripped off my panties like they were nothing.

In the back of my head, I knew I should have panicked and struggled, but it didn't happen. All I had to say was 'no'. The word was stuck in my throat. It wouldn't come out. I didn't want it to come out. I didn't want him to stop. This was exactly who I wanted to be with. I couldn't have planned it any better. I wanted to be utterly destroyed by Tim Riggins.

I couldn't stop my reaction as he touched me down there. His fingers knew exactly what I wanted, what felt good.

Just then the doorknob rattled.

"Tim, what're you doing in there?" asked a needy feminine voice.

He turned his face away to address the door. "Get lost!"

"But…I've been waiting for…"

"I said get lost!" he growled.

As the unknown girl's footsteps moved away from the other side of the door, Tim's hot breath returned to my face. Dear God, I was going to have an orgasm…right in front of him. How could he get me off so quickly? The wave of concentrated heat rushed through me like an electrical storm, sending me into convulsions. My thighs trembled from the intensity. _Shit, shit, shit!_

"That didn't take long," he whispered.

I couldn't keep silent. It was too much and it kept going and going. I actually squealed in unrequited bliss. My knees felt so weak, I could barely stand on my feet. I was reeling from the onslaught of pleasure.

God, my stomach dropped like a rollercoaster, tightening in raw desperation when he gripped my wrist and pulled it between us. My hand automatically wrapped around his tool, which I hadn't even realized was suddenly out of his jeans. I couldn't stop myself. I gripped tightly and moved up and down over his solid length. His breath was hot and heavy against my face.

Before I knew what was happening, he nudged my legs further apart. He rubbed himself between my legs. When I suddenly felt him start to enter me with a bit of force, I instinctly pushed him away. "No, I can't…"

"Yeah, right." He moved toward me again.

"I said no!"

"Are you kidding me? You really wanna stop now?"

I pulled my jean skirt down and grabbed the doorknob. This time he didn't stop me as I pulled the door open and ran out. I found Lois standing in the kitchen with some guy I didn't know. "Can we go?" I asked her, trying to appear calm.

"Okay, just give me a few more minutes," she replied.

I glanced around the kitchen and found a half empty bottle of rum. I grabbed it and started drinking right out of it. I needed to numb the heat that was still burning between my legs.

A few minutes turned into an hour and I found myself on the sofa and my mouth was going on and on about my mom, complaining about her control over every little thing I did. Riley was sitting next to me and he was being such a good listener…although it was weird that he was listening with his face against my neck.

Tim was suddenly standing in front of me. "Hey, Jules?"

I looked up at him. I was pretty sure I was supposed to be mad at him, but I couldn't remember why. "Hm?"

"Come on, I'll take you home."

"I…I don't wanna go," I told him.

His eyes moved to Riley. "Hey, I'll grab you a beer."

"Sure," replied Riley as he got up from the sofa.

"You're grabbing beers?" I called out.

"Yeah, you want one?" asked Tim.

"Yeah."

A minute later Tim came back empty handed. "Hey, yeah, it's time.."

"Time for what? Where's my beer?"

I couldn't walk anymore, so Tim was helping me into his truck and then out of his truck and into my house. His arm was around my waist and both of mine were around his neck.

"Remember what I said about being quiet, alright?" he said as he led me toward my bedroom. Once there, he plopped me down on the bed. "Okay, there you go."

"The whole world's spinning," I mumbled.

Tim started untying my shoes. "I know it is. I've been there."

"It's spinning!"

"Hey, listen to me. Keep your eyes open. You'll be fine."

"I'm gonna vomit on the bed."

He got both of my shoes off.

"I'm gonna vomit on the floor."

"All right," he said as his hands went to my waist. "Let's move you up so you can pass out without falling off the bed." He pulled my arms around his neck. "Ready? Three…two…one…" He yanked me up so my head was on the pillow.

"There. You good?"

"I'm good."

"It's time to let go."

"I'm good."

"Hey, Julie…" It was my dad's voice, coming into my bedroom.

Tim froze. "Let go." He pulled my arms off of him and stood up. "Coach."

"What the hell are you doing?"

My eyes were closed, but I could hear my dad and Tim talking.

"What the hell are you doing?" my dad asked again, his voice very angry.

"It's not even close to what you think. Listen to me."

"Shut up. You shut up. You shut your mouth right now."

"Coach, you have to understand…"

"Shut your mouth. You go get your stuff and you get out of this house right now."

"Give me two seconds to just…"

"Go get your stuff and get out of this house right now." There was a pause. "Son, do not make me throw you out of this house. Go get your stuff and get out of the house now."

And I imagined I passed out after that.

**End of Flashback**


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thanks to everyone for the reviews and the PMs of encouragement. I haven't written fanfiction in such a long time. It's hard sticking to canon, but I'm trying.

**Chapter 6**

* * *

I woke to the sound of a loud knock on the door and remembered I was in a motel room with Tim. The knock woke him and he crawled out of bed with a groan.

The knock came more persistently.

"Yeah, yeah…keep your pants on!"

"This is the police!" came the response.

I looked wide-eyed at Tim when he looked at me. The police? The first thing that came to my mind was that they came to tell me they had captured the killer. But didn't Detective Clay say he would call me himself when they caught him?

Tim opened the door and two officers entered. To my surprise, they suddenly grabbed Tim and dragged him outside.

A third officer stepped in and looked around. He saw me sitting up in bed, the sheets dragged up to my neck. He had a flashlight and aimed the beam in my face. "Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked.

"Yes. What's going on?"

"There's no need to worry. Everything will be fine now. We'll send someone to come talk to you later this afternoon." And then he walked out of the motel room, closing the door behind him.

I immediately jumped out of bed and rushed to look out the window.

Tim had been handcuffed and they were putting him in the back of a squad car. The officers all got in and the car pulled away.

_Holy shit! _What the heck happened? What had Tim done? Maybe he wasn't supposed to have left Texas. Did that violate his parole? Had they been monitoring his whereabouts? How bad had his crime been that they would have followed him all the way to the state of Washington?

I started to panic and quickly threw on jeans, a teeshirt and shoes. I thought about calling my dad, but then he wouldn't trust Tim ever again and I'd have to take a flight out of the next airport. And then what would happen to Striker?

I needed to do this on my own. I needed to help Tim out of this situation…And no matter what he had done in the past, I was going to support him and not judge him in any way.

Tim's keys were sitting on the night stand. I scooped them up and grabbed my purse before I left the motel room.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where the police station is in this town?" I asked an elderly man watering flowers nearby.

The man gave me a once over. "Sheriff's Office is at the other end of town. Just stay on this road until you get to Orville's Hardware Store. Then turn left. Keep on that street. You can't miss it. Big brick building with a clock tower."

"Thank you."

I headed for Tim's car and just as I got in I realized I had no idea how to drive a stick. What if I screwed up the transmission? He'd be furious with me for messing up his very expensive classic car. I looked out the window at the pickup truck and the never-ending trailer hitched to it. It was as long as a 747. There was no way I was driving that thing.

I put the key in the car's ignition and started the engine. It sounded like a Formula One at the Indy 500.

My cell phone buzzed.

I glanced at the display. It was Henry again. If I didn't answer it, he would just keep calling me. This was already the fifty-sixth missed call from him. I hit the Answer button. "What do you want, Henry?"

"I came home last night and noticed all of your stuff was gone. You couldn't possibly have moved out, because I'm pretty sure you would have told me."

"I moved out." Why lie about it?

"Why?"

"Really? You're asking me why?"

"Oh, come on, Julie. That girl doesn't mean anything to me. You're the one I want to be with. Maybe if you could just let me show you how great we can be together."

"You know what, Henry, I'm just gonna come out and say it. The whole sleeping together thing? That was never going to happen. In fact the very thought of it actually nauseates me. I'm not planning to go back to Portland. So, this is me being a bitch. Lose my number. If you call me again, I'll tell my dad what you did."

"I'm not afraid of your father."

"Well, you should be. Don't call me again." I ended the call.

Henry Pelican was now gone from my life for good and in the next few seconds he was going to be gone from my mind.

"Okay, this can't be that difficult." I pushed my left foot on the clutch pedal and put the stick in what I imagined was reverse. Then I remembered that I needed to unlock the parking brake. Once that was done, I eased off the clutch and accelerated. The car lurched backward several feet and I instinctly hit the brake.

The man watering the flowers watched me with his mouth open as I attempted several times to back out of the parking space. Then I put the gear in first and turned the wheel to go forward. The car lurched forward and I kept hitting the brake for no reason.

This was not going well at all. How the hell did Tim drive this car? He made it look so easy.

After several more attempts at lurching forward and braking, I got the hang of it and was able to advance further down the street. But the traffic light turned red and I had to stop, just when I thought I was doing so well. I just hoped the Sheriff's Office wasn't that much further away.

With the constant lurching and braking, it took me almost a half hour to get to the brick building with the clock tower. I let the car roll into a parking space and I set the parking brake before turning the engine off. I was sweating profusely from the exertion of driving Tim's car. It had stressed me out more than seeing him get arrested.

I rushed into the building and walked inside. It reminded me so much of an old comedy show on TV, the Andy Griffith Show. Or maybe I was in the Twilight Zone.

There were three jail cells on one side of the room and Tim was in one of them…no shirt and no shoes. He saw me and walked up to the cell bars.

A man in uniform stepped out from a back room and noticed me. "May I help you?"

"Yes, I'm here to bail out that man over there," I pointed.

The officer looked in Tim's direction and then back at me. "You're the woman in the motel room with him?"

"Yes." For some reason I suddenly felt self-conscious, like he was judging me on some level.

"Ma'am, there was no need for you to come to the station. We're scheduled to take your statement later today. You won't have to be troubled any longer."

"Troubled? I don't understand what's going on. Why did you arrest him?"

When I turned to Tim, he gave me a shrug. "Don't look at me. I don't have a clue."

"Look, ma'am," said the officer. He glanced at a piece of paper on the corner of his desk. "Tim Riggins…" He looked up at me again. "He's been arrested for spousal abuse. We take it very seriously in this town and it's not going to happen to you again."

Then it suddenly dawned on me. This man was the officer I saw the night before in the diner. He had been staring at me in a funny way. He must have seen the bruise on my face and thought Tim had hit me. Well, I would just have to set him straight. "Sheriff, is it?"

"Yes, the name's Andy Brooks, sheriff of Redmond."

Andy Brooks. Andy Griffith. Twilight Zone.

"Look, Sheriff Brooks, I think there's been a misunderstanding. Tim Riggins is a friend of mine. We're not even married."

Brooks shook his head. "Doesn't matter. It's still abuse."

"But he didn't hit me. I got this bruise in Portland. I got into a scuffle with someone else."

The Sheriff looked from me to Tim and then back to me.

"He didn't hit me. We're on our way to Dillon, Texas for a wedding. We're both in the bridal party."

Brooks held up a hand. "Look, you don't have to lie to protect him."

"I'm not lying," I said. This guy was getting on my last nerve. "Like I said, we're friends and he DID NOT hit me."

He mulled it over for a minute before looking back at me. "All right, ma'am. If you say so." He unhooked a set of keys from his belt and walked over to the jail cell containing Tim. "But if it happens again, don't expect any help from law enforcement in Redmond."

I frowned, wanting to tell him that Tim and I weren't planning on staying very long anyway.

After Brooks unlocked the door, Tim stepped out.

I rushed over and hugged him. "Are you okay?" I asked, glad that he was hugging me back. "They didn't beat you up or anything, did they?"

He laughed. "No, I'm fine."

When we came apart, we were standing close, our noses practically touching. Our eyes met and we moved apart awkwardly.

"Let's get out of here." He took the keys from my hand and after he signed release papers, I followed Tim out of the Sheriff's Office.

"You drove my car?" he asked as we got in.

"Yeah," I said nonchalantly. "It was…it was a piece of cake."

"I don't suppose you brought my boots?"

"I'm sorry. I rushed out so fast, I didn't think about it."

As we drove back to the motel, tears suddenly filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. He hadn't gotten arrested because of something he had done. He had gotten arrested because of me. This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.

"Hey…" Tim touched my arm. "What's the matter?"

"Tim, I am so sorry this happened to you."

"Why are you apologizing? This wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. If they hadn't seen us together last night at the diner, then they wouldn't have thought you hit me. Maybe I should just take a bus to the closest airport. You can drive back to Dillon without me." Whenever Tim and I were involved in something together, he always ended up bearing the brunt of whatever misgiving occurred.

"Come on, Jules. It was a misunderstanding. Nobody got hurt."

"I got so scared when they took you away. I didn't know what was going on."

"Yeah, that makes two of us. But it's gonna be all right. Just don't worry about it."

I turned away, wiping at my eyes. "I'm sure the last thing you want is to spend another minute in prison."

He picked up my hand and squeezed it. "Hey…"

I turned back to him.

"It's gonna be all right," he repeated. "Trust me."

* * *

**Flashback – Five Years Ago**

When I woke up the next morning after the party, it all came back to me in a rush. I couldn't believe what I had done in the bathroom with Tim Riggins the night before. As the images came to me, I groaned in agony…in embarrassment and in excitement. The only thing I regretted was not finishing what we had started.

But it had been wrong. I knew it now. It would have meant nothing to him, just another high school accomplishment. While to me, it was a life changing event and would have meant the world.

On Monday, when I went to school, I tried to avoid Tim because my dad told me to, but it was impossible, given that we were in Biology together. Usually he ignored me. I had a feeling he wasn't going to this time.

During class, I kept my eyes focused forward, at the front of the class. From the corner of my eye I could see Tim occasionally looking in my direction.

"Psst, Jules."

I tried to control my breathing as he called me, and I didn't look at him.

"Julie…" he whispered loudly.

I frowned and slowly shook my head. I wasn't going to look at him.

"Is there something you want to share with the class, Mr Riggins?" asked the teacher.

Tim sighed. "No."

As soon as the bell rang, I jumped out of my seat and pushed my way through everyone to get out of the classroom. I didn't want to confront him. I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to remember any of it.

It went on like this for a few days. Until Friday…when I saw him coming down the hall. He saw me and I quickly turned and walked in the other direction with the intention of hiding in the girls bathroom.

I went through the doors, but so did Tim. I whirled to face him. "What the hell, Tim?"

He grabbed my arm. "You're not getting away this time."

There were several other girls in the bathroom and all eyes went to us.

"We are gonna hash this out right now." He looked around at the girls standing on front of the mirrors. "You all look fabulous, ladies. Can we have a few minutes of privacy, please?"

Everyone filed out, glancing over their shoulders at us. Tim checked the stalls to make sure. When he was satisfied we were finally alone, he turned to face me. "You know, I took the heat for your dad catching me in your bedroom. I can live with that, but I won't have you ignore me."

"_You won't have me ignore you?_ What're you the Prince of Sudan all of a sudden?"

"What is your problem?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"No."

"Really? Are you that oblivious or maybe you're just so conceited you don't know the difference between reality and _porn_."

He nodded his head to the side. "Alright, maybe I was a little drunk last Friday night."

"A little? Do you even remember what happened?"

"Of course, I remember." It was obvious he was trying to charm me.

"So you're just oblivious then?"

He put his hands on his hips and leaned closer to my face. "I'm oblivious? You gave me the green light and you got what you wanted and then you expected me to hit the brakes, just when it was my turn to get lucky."

I clenched my fist and swung. He deflected my punch by grabbing my wrist.

And before I knew it, his arms were around me, trapping me against him. "All right, all right. Chill out, okay?"

"Let go of me, Tim," I fumed.

He immediately released me and held up his hands.

"Maybe you're used to getting your way," I said angrily. "I'm sure most of the girls in this school would love to be with you. But that doesn't mean you should take advantage of every opportunity. I was drunk and weak and vulnerable. You knew it." I stabbed a finger into his chest. "And _you_ took advantage of it."

He frowned and looked down. Was I getting through to him? Was I making him feel guilty. His eyes came back up to mine. "Look, I'm sorry. So if you wanna quit me, that's fine. I can just get another rally girl to do stuff for me."

Tears burned my eyes and I refused to let him see me cry. I almost lost my virginity to him and he thought I did it because I was his rally girl? Well, I didn't want to be a part of it any longer. He could have his fun with someone else. "Yeah, you do that." I turned and walked toward the swinging doors. "Asshole," I blurted over my shoulder as I walked out.

And even then, walking away from him, I felt my body crying out for those hands, those lips...that Riggins scent.

He didn't stop me or follow me. It was over. Hell, it was over before it even began.

But I felt guilty about him taking the blame for my dad catching us. He had only been trying to get me into my bed without my parents finding out that I had been drinking. He deserved to at least be exonerated from that. Especially when I saw the murderous look my dad kept giving Tim every time we were within twenty feet of each other in his presence.

That same night, just before the football game, I decided to come clean as my dad was about to walk out of the house.

"Dad, can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, but I got to go, baby." He leaned in and kissed my cheek.

"No, Dad, I really need to talk to you right now. It's about the other night, and the whole Tim thing."

He stopped and looked at me.

"It wasn't his fault," I said.

"What do you mean?"

"It was my fault. We were at this party, and…and I was drinking and there was this other guy named Riley and…I was about to get in trouble, and Tim…Tim stopped it and he took me home and he was trying to sneak me in, and…Then you came in, and…And I'm just trying to say it was my fault." I would never forget the expression on my dad's face.

"Damn, Julie," he finally said.

"I'm sorry."

"Damn." He turned and walked out.

A week later as I did my homework in my bedroom, there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" I asked.

"It's me." It was Tim.

I stared at the closed door. "Go away."

"I've got nowhere to go, Taylor, nothing to do. I can sleep outside your door. I'm not moving until you open it."

I released a frustrated sigh and went to the door and opened it. "I have nothing to say to you."

"So that's it? You're never gonna speak to me again?"

"That's right. Never."

"Coach came and apologized to me, so I guess you fessed up."

I kept my face neutral. "Well now I don't owe you anything. We're even."

"Jules, I'm reaching out to you. Can't we just be friends again?"

"When were we ever friends, Tim?"

He frowned. "Look, I am not taking all the blame for what happened in the bathroom that night. But, I guess I'll be the bigger person and apologize again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for taking advantage of you."

I slammed the door in his face. It felt good, but I also felt terrible.

**End of Flashback**

* * *

_I would love to hear your thoughts on this so far. _


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry, I've been away for awhile. I've had major internet and email problems. But it's finally all resolved, and I'm back. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and I apologize if I didn't reply to you. Hopefully this story will draw a little more interest. I'm not one to abandon any story. I've completed every one that I've written on this site. But a little inspiration or constructive criticism never hurt.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

When we got back to the motel room, Tim saw that I was still upset. He pulled me into his arms. "A couple more days and we'll be partying in Vegas. I promise you." He kissed my forehead and released me.

While Tim went outside to muck out the trailer and take care of Striker, I went to the diner and bought a cup of coffee and a donut to go.

By the time I got back, Tim was in the bathroom taking a shower. A few minutes later he came out wearing a towel around his waist. "Is that for me?"

I handed him the coffee and the donut.

"Thanks. You're the best." He took a sip of the hot coffee and ate the donut in three bites.

I went outside and waited while he got dressed.

He came out with my suitcase and his duffle bag. After stowing them in the trailer's storage compartment, along with my other things that had been in the trunk of the car, Tim opened the back of the trailer.

I watched as he drove the car up the ramp into the trailer and then closed it all up.

We left the small town of Redmond behind and I was never so happy to leave a place before in my life…except Portland, of course.

A couple hours later, we stopped in Klamath Falls to get lunch to go. From there Tim said we would spend the night in Redding, in the northern part of California.

While we ate our sandwiches, I was holding Striker's lead rope as he grazed on some grass on the side of the road.

Tim looked something up on his cell phone. "Let's see, they have rooms available at the Bellagio. Have you ever stayed there before?"

"I've never been to Las Vegas. What's at the Bellagio?"

"Well, that's where they're holding the Cutting Horse Championship. Plus I can rent a stall for Striker for a couple of days and pay for his food."

I nodded. "Great idea. He could also use some exercise after being cooped up in the trailer. Maybe we should ride him. Is he broke?"

"According to his papers, he is green broke."

I laughed. "Green broke? Tim, do you even know how to ride?"

"'Course I do. I used to ride old man Foster's wild mustangs bareback when I was like ten years old. I can ride pretty good. I just don't know the book lingo, if you know what I mean. And I don't know a damned thing about Dress_aaa_ge either."

I wondered why he put so much emphasis on the "age" in dressage. "My advanced equestrian classes were mainly dressage."

"You did horse ballet?"

"I learned direct cues with leg and hand. It's all about collection and impulsion. Extended trot, piaffe, side pass, turn on the forehand. I won ribbons and trophies," I added proudly.

He smiled and stared. "That kind of talk is making me hot, Taylor."

I turned away so he wouldn't see my blush. "What kind of rooms do they have at the Bellagio?"

"The Salone Premier Fountain View Suite has a king-sized bed. I can draw a line down the middle and we can each take a side." He shrugged his left shoulder. "Or I can sleep on the pullout sofa."

"Seriously?"

"They have a great spa that's calling your name…Julie…Julie Taylor."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Book us in a Salone Premier Fountain View Suite."

As Tim booked it on his phone, I pulled on Striker's lead rope and jogged him up and down the side of the road a few times. I caught Tim watching me.

He smiled and held his phone aimed in my direction, taking a picture. "I'm sending this one to Coach."

* * *

**Flashback – Three and a Half Years Ago**

I went to the East Dillon Correctional Facility and checked in at the main desk. "I'm here to see Timothy Riggins."

The man behind the glass partition went on a computer. "Your name, miss?"

"Julie Taylor."

"Have a seat over there, please."

I waited for a half an hour and then someone came out to get me. Every time we passed a security station, they inspected the contents of a paper bag I had with me.

Finally they led me to an outdoor area with several picnic tables. I was told to sit and wait.

I glanced around, seeing two other prisoners in white jumpsuits, talking to visitors. I couldn't believe Tim was in prison. No one at home ever talked about it, so I didn't even know what he had done. It had been over a year since that night in the bathroom, and Tim and I hadn't seen much of each other in school after that. He graduated and went to San Antonio State, but that didn't last long and he came back to Dillon shortly after, to work in his brother's auto mechanic shop. Then suddenly Tim had gone to prison to serve a five year sentence.

So far he had been in for three months.

A few minutes later I looked up and saw a guard leading Tim out through a door and along the grass path between the picnic tables.

When Tim saw me, he slowed down and stopped.

There was something in his expression, something I didn't recognize. Humility and something else. This wasn't how I remembered him.

Tim looked away, shaking his head, before he finally moved forward again. He didn't look at me as he slid into the bench and placed his handcuffed hands on top of the picnic table. "Julie Taylor…What're you doing here?" he asked, still not looking at me.

I waited for the guard to move away before I responded. "I came to see how you were doing."

He didn't respond.

Then I realized what it was about him that was different. He had lost his sense of humor and his sarcasm. And it was unnerving. "Actually, I…I came to apologize."

His eyes came up. God, how I missed those eyes. "Apologize for what?"

"You were right. I gave you the green light. I wanted it to happen, but then I chickened out."

He frowned at me. "Why're you telling me now? Do you even know what's going on with me here?"

I nodded. "Yes, I…I know."

"No, you don't. Do you honestly think I give a rat's ass about what happened that night? You were just another rally girl to screw around with. That's it. It meant nothing."

My heart fell. It fell to the ground and he stomped on it with both feet. I was about to burst into tears, I could feel it. I needed to leave before I humiliated myself more than I already had. "I guess I deserve that." I slid off the bench and started to walk away.

"Shit…Jules, wait!"

I stopped and waited until I had my tears under control before I turned around.

Tim was on his feet and shrugging the guard's hand off his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I…I don't…I don't know why I said that. It's not true." He ran a hand through his hair, the chain on his cuffs jingling. "I don't…" He paused and took a breath. "Can you just stay for a minute?"

The pleading look on his face made me walk back to the picnic table. We both sat down again and waited for the guard to step away.

"I'm sorry," Tim repeated, his eyes on the table top. "I'm a jerk, I know it. Or maybe you might want to use a stronger word than that. I fucked up. That's all I can say." He looked up at me and shook his head. "I didn't know what I was doing that night and I didn't know any better."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"But you gotta give me credit. I mean, at least I wasn't so drunk that I still had enough sense not to… I didn't force myself on you."

"I know."

"And being with you…it meant something, Jules. It meant a lot because I care about you."

I nodded and then shook my head as my eyes burned with tears again. "I'm sorry for blaming it all on you and I'm sorry my dad kicked you out of our house."

He frowned. "How about if we just drop it, okay?"

"I can't pretend it never happened."

He shook his head. "No, I know that. I just want us to stop blaming each other."

"You're right. And I should be grateful you had the sense to stop. Maybe someone else wouldn't have. So I'm glad it was you and not anyone else." There I said it. It was out there.

"Yeah, I'm…I'm really glad it was me, too."

Just the way he said it, maybe he hadn't lost his sense of humor after all. I smiled at him. "Really? You're gonna say that to me?"

He shrugged. "Well, it was good, right? You can at least admit it."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. To distract myself and the direction of the discussion, I pushed the paper bag toward him. "I made these for you."

He opened the bag and looked inside before reaching in for a chocolate chip cookie. He smiled. "Please tell me your baking skills have improved since the last time you made cookies for me."

"Oh, come on. You had to know it was intentional back then."

He took a bite and chewed and then he nodded. "It's good."

"Thanks."

He looked up at me as he finished the cookie. "You graduate this year, don't ya?"

"Yes. I'm actually leaving Dillon when school's over and I'm moving to Portland."

"Portland, as in Oregon?"

I smiled. "See, you're not that bad in geography."

"Well, I wish you good luck with that, Jules."

"So, when're you getting out of here, Tim?"

"I'm up for parole in about five months. But there's no guarantee I'll be getting out. I might have to do the full five years."

I wanted to ask him what he had done, but I didn't want to spoil his mood. And maybe, deep down inside, I really didn't want to know. I glanced up and saw the guard tapping his watch. "I guess I have to get going." I slid out of the bench. "Try to stay out of trouble in there." Before I changed my mind, I bent and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Ma'am, don't touch the prisoner, please," said the guard.

Tim smiled. "You're starting trouble for me already."

I smiled back. "Enjoy the cookies, Tim. Goodbye."

"Bye."

I left the prison feeling melancholy. It was obvious Tim was miserable in there, even if he didn't admit it. But at least we finally confessed our flaws to each other about that pivotal night. Now I felt like I could finally move on with my life and put it all behind me.

Or maybe not.

**End of Flashback  
**

* * *

At 8:15, we arrived in Redding and pulled into a Holiday Inn. This looked a lot better than the motel in Redmond.

Tim grabbed my suitcase and his duffle from the storage compartment. We went through the front entrance and up to the front desk.

"Hi, can we get two rooms for the night?" Tim asked.

"Or just one with two beds would be fine," I blurted and Tim looked at me.

The woman behind the counter looked from me to Tim.

Tim nodded. "Just one room." He handed her his credit card. "And is there a place I can pick up a pizza and some beer?"

"Tony's Pizzeria is right next door. They don't serve alcohol, but there's a liquor store right next to them."

"Great."

The woman handed him back his credit card and made him sign something and then she handed him two key cards.

We went up to the room on the second floor and put our stuff down.

"I really need a shower," I said.

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll feed Striker and go get us a pizza and some beer."

"Sounds great."

He grabbed his keys and one of the key cards. "I'll be back in a little bit."

While he was gone, I took a shower and then threw on shorts and a tank top. As I walked around the hotel room, I noticed a sliding door behind a curtain. It lead to a patio with two wooden chairs and a small table. I opened it and stepped outside. It faced the parking lot and the forest just beyond it.

The truck and trailer were parked in the back of the lot where Tim had left them and even though it was dark, I could see Striker's head hanging out of the window. I was glad Tim decided to untie the horse and let him walk around inside the ten by ten foot space at the front of the trailer.

About fifteen minutes later I saw Tim walk through the parking lot holding a pizza box and a six pack of beer.

As he came closer to the entrance, I whistled. "Hey, stranger, are you looking for a party?"

He looked up to the balcony and saw me. "Sure, I'm up for a party." He disappeared inside.

A few minutes later he joined me on the balcony and sat in the other deck chair. "A quiet party sounds more like it." He opened the pizza box and then handed me a beer.

It was dark. The only light came from the windows of the room. And it was quiet. We could hear chirping crickets and an occasional hooting owl. There wasn't a single sound of traffic anywhere.

We ate and drank in silence and it felt comfortable just being there with him.

I heard myself scream and I sat up in bed, looking around but not recognizing my surroundings.

"Hey, are you all right?"

At first I thought Henry was in the room, but I knew I wasn't in my apartment in Portland and that wasn't his voice.

"Jules?" It was Tim.

I ran my fingers through my hair. It was still the middle of the night. "Yeah, I'm…fine. It was just a nightmare." I remembered the dream and remembered that face with the black eyes. The robber had been after me. His teeth were sharp, like daggers, like an alien. Like a demon. I wasn't an expert at dream interpretation, but it felt like an omen to me, like I needed to look over my shoulder from now on.

Tim got out of his bed and sat down on the edge of mine. I was distraught, but apparently not enough to not notice he wore nothing but white boxers…and the scent of sweat…God, how could he smell so bad and so good at the same time.

"Look, Jules, I'm not an idiot. I know something else drove you out besides that joke boyfriend you were living with. Are you gonna tell me?"

I sighed, resigning myself to telling someone. Why not Tim? "Fine, but you have to promise not to tell my dad. I'll tell him when I get back home."

"All right, I promise."

"There was a robbery yesterday morning where I work. The guy had on a ski mask and he put a gun on my face and Larry opened the safe to get the money."

"What…? Wait a minute….what?" He shifted further in my direction.

I started talking fast and couldn't stop. "He dragged me outside. I was holding the bag of money and I went in my purse and got my mace and sprayed his eyes. I ran back inside and locked the door. Then he shot at me and the glass shattered and the next thing I know I'm pulling off his ski mask and I saw his face." I was shaking now, the terrified kind of shaking. "He told me I was dead, just before he drove off."

"Holy shit, Julie. What'd the police say? Do they know who it is?"

"All they know is that he's robbed a bunch of banks and killed six people. He always had on that ski mask and I'm the only one that ever saw his face. I'm the only one that can identify him. The detective on the case told me to leave town. He said he'd call me if they catch him. I'm really scared, Tim. What if they never catch him? What if he tracks me down?"

"Hey, com'ere." Tim slid closer and pulled me into his arms. "He doesn't know who you are, so he can't track you down." He buried his fingers in my hair and held my face against his shoulder. "Besides, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Not on my watch."

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips against his warm skin. "I saw his face in my dream," I whispered.

"He's the one that hit you, wasn't he?" he asked a minute later.

"Yes."

"It's okay. Lay down."

I didn't want him to let me go. But he released me and I laid back down. Then he surprised me by sliding beneath the covers and pulling me back into his arms. I buried my face in his shoulder again.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay here with you." He kissed the top of my head. "Try and sleep."

I closed my eyes as I felt the heat emanating from him. It felt good. It felt comforting.

And it felt safe.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – Sorry, everyone. I'm sort of losing interest in this story. I don't like when stories are abandoned and I always wondered how that could possibly happen? But now I'm in those shoes. I hate being that person, especially knowing that readers put so much effort into reading our stories and telling us how great they are. I won't abandon it, but I may not update very timely. Unfortunately my real life projects are at the top of my  
"to do" list.**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

I woke up with a headache, but I expected that, after all the beer I drank the night before. Then I realized I wasn't alone in bed.

There was a warm body pressed against my back…an almost naked body. When I stirred, he was awake in a split second.

"Okay, I'm up…" Tim mumbled and jumped out of the bed.

I watched him stumble toward the bathroom, his boxers so low on his hips, I could see his butt crack.

After he was gone, I sat up and rubbed my face. I tried to remember how Tim had ended up in bed with me. The nightmare. That was it. I had a nightmare and I told Tim about the robbery and he laid down with me so I could fall asleep. That was totally unselfish of him…and quite sweet.

When he came out of the bathroom, I got up and went in, closing the door behind me. I jumped in the shower and stood under the hot water for awhile. What I really needed was a cold shower to quench the heat that had built the second I realized he was in bed with me. Damn, I could still smell him on me.

After I finished, I found a large cotton towel and wrapped it around myself. I came out of the bathroom and found Tim sitting on the other bed, still in his boxers, his back against the headboard. He was watching TV and drinking coffee.

He looked up at me as I walked over to the bed. "How're you feeling?" he asked me.

I leaned beside him against the headboard. "Numb."

He picked up his coffee cup and held it out to me. "Here, drink this."

"I don't like coffee."

"Well, you're gonna like it today. Drink it."

I took a sip and the bitterness made me scrunch my face. "God, this is terrible. How can you drink it?" Even after I asked the question, I took a long gulp and leaned against the headboard.

He stood up and his boxers miraculously stayed put on his hips. "I'm taking a shower," he announced. "You should get dressed."

"Are we hitting the road already?" I asked as he walked to his duffle bag.

"Yeah. It's Friday and we have to get to Sacramento. I have a friend who throws unforgettable pool parties. We should make it there by the time the real fun begins." He grabbed his clothes and went in the bathroom.

While Tim took a shower, I got dressed and put my hair in a ponytail. By the time he came out, I was ready to go.

We went outside and he stored our bags in the trailer and tossed some hay in the corner for Striker.

As we got in the truck and he started the engine, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"Ok, we'll stop for lunch later then." He pulled out of the parking lot and made a wide right hand turn onto the road.

I shook my head, amazed that he was able to maneuver his truck with such a long trailer attached to it.

My cell phone rang and I glanced at the display. It was Lois. I answered it. "Hi, Lois."

"So I have to hear it from your mom that you're on a road trip with Tim Riggins?"

"Alright, don't get all flippy on me. I was gonna call you…eventually."

"And why not tell me right away?"

"Because I knew you'd…" I paused and glanced at Tim, who glanced back at me. "…start interrogating me."

"So are you like freaking out on him?" she asked me.

"Maybe a little. But I'm not like…you know…" I turned away to whisper, "All over him or anything."

"I heard that," said Tim. "Yeah, she is. She follows me everywhere. Even in the bathroom."

I turned and smacked his arm. "Cut it out, Tim. That's not true."

"I think I believe him more than I believe you," said Lois.

"Bite me," I replied.

"Sure, I'd love a bite," Tim said as he grabbed my hand and was about to bite my wrist.

"Not you." I sighed and yanked my hand out of his grip.

"So how long is this road trip supposed to last?" asked Lois.

"I don't know. I'm on Tim's clock. We're going to Vegas for a couple of days."

"Why Vegas?"

"Apparently I've been told by my keeper here that I need a spa day."

"And you have to go to Vegas for that? Don't they have spas anywhere else along the way?"

I didn't want to get into the whole story about Tim buying a horse because I didn't want to be on the phone with her for an hour. "Again, I'm on Tim's clock and he's driving. I have no say in anything."

"Just make sure he gets you here in plenty of time for your dress fitting or Tyra will flip out."

"I know. I will."

"Call me later when he's not around. I want to hear all the intimate details."

"Yeah, bye."

"Bye."

A couple of hours later we stopped for gas and I let Striker out for a few minutes to stretch his legs. He pranced around friskily and I nearly lost my grip on the lead rope.

"Are you okay over there, Jules?" Tim asked. "You need help with him?"

The second Striker heard Tim's voice, he immediately settled. I was convinced this horse had a thing for Tim. Maybe the Friesian/human bonding fact was true.

"It's fine. He's all right now." I jogged him around the gas station several times while Tim continued filling the truck. What I wanted to do was hop on his back, but I wasn't sure how Striker would react to a rider on his bare back. Besides, I had an audience. There were three old men sitting outside the gas station, smoking pipes and staring at me and Striker, like they'd never seen a girl with a horse before.

Tim went inside to pay and came out with an ice cream cone and an apple. Striker took a bite out of the apple and I watched Tim's tongue glide across the ice cream. The sight sent a lava flow of heat to every corner of my body. Maybe he noticed the heat rise to my cheeks or maybe he didn't.

He smiled and held the cone out to me. Who was I kidding? He noticed everything.

I took a couple of licks and then Striker took a step closer. Before Tim could pull the cone away, Striker had snatched it right out of his hand and it was gone in two seconds.

As Tim stood there with his jaw hanging open, staring at his empty hand, I laughed and gave Striker a pat on the neck. "Good boy."

"Don't encourage his bad behavior."

I laughed. "I thought it was cute."

Back on the road several minutes later, Tim brought the conversation back to where I really didn't want to go.

"So tell me about this guy in Portland."

"There's nothing to tell." I sighed heavily. "I lived with him for three years, platonically. Then he had to ruin it by asking me out."

"Doesn't sound like a real relationship to me."

"If you're trying to find out if I slept with him, the answer is no."

"That's not what I was going to ask, but while we're on the subject."

"What do you want to know, Tim? Do you want to know if I've been with anyone since I left Dillon?"

He turned to me and smiled. "You're adorable when you're flustered, Jules."

* * *

**(Tim's POV)**

I pulled off the road around 11:30 in the afternoon. We would be in Sacramento in about an hour and I wanted to give Striker a chance to stretch his legs before we got to my buddy's house where he'd be cooped up in the trailer until morning.

Jules was still asleep. She had been sleeping for the last hundred miles.

As I shut off the engine, I turned to look at her. She had grown more beautiful, if that was even possible, since I had known her in high school. Whenever I was with her, just looking at her, I couldn't remember what I had ever seen in those silly girls in school. Julie Taylor was a goddess.

I smiled as I recalled how pissed she had been at me, like it had been all my fault that night in the bathroom. Well, maybe I instigated it and coaxed her…just a little bit. After that, it was all her. The way she kissed me back and the way she touched me. It was a miracle I hadn't taken her all the way that night because I wanted to…I wanted it badly. But she had stopped it and I actually respected her for doing the right thing.

Even though she hadn't actually said it yet, I had a feeling she was still untouched. She wasn't the kind of girl to just hook up with anyone. I knew her more than she thought I did. But I could see she felt something for me, and it wasn't just a crush like she had a couple years ago. It was more. I wondered if she would be receptive if I made a pass at her.

Damn…I got out of the truck and walked it off. I was getting a boner just thinking about being with her.

I walked to the other side of the trailer and lowered the side door. Striker made a huffing sound as I climbed up and untied his lead rope. "Let's take a little walk and have some grass, Champ." I led him down the ramp. We walked away from the trailer and into the grassy field next to it.

Striker lowered his head and began to eat. I sat down on the grass and watched him. I still couldn't believe this was the same animal I had seen in the auction pen the other day. Maybe Jules was right. Maybe Striker hadn't liked his owner or the handlers. He just needed someone to bond with. I watched the way his long mane hung over his face. It was kind of like my hair sometimes when I let it get too long between cuts.

Striker stepped closer and ate the grass around my leg. His nose came up and as he continued chewing, he nudged my face.

"Whatta you think, Strikes? Should I go for it? Should I make her mine?" I pushed his face away when he tried to lick my cheek. "About this little affection thing you have for me. I don't mind it as long as you stop trying to impose your tongue on my face. I'm a guy and you're a guy and that don't work with me. Do I have to teach you how to behave with the ladies, too? I mean, once you become a champ, well…they're gonna be lining up outside your stall and you're gonna get lucky every day."

He chewed on the grass and looked at me with his big eye, like he could understand what I was telling him and that it was no big deal that I planned to stud him out for money. I laughed. I was his pimp.

"Then we'll rake in the cash. Enough where I can support a wife and some kids." I heard the car door slam and when I looked up, Julie was walking toward us. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, the way her hips swung as she moved, the way her tank top rode up and I could see a fair amount of her bare stomach. She was all female…and tempting and fuck…I had to look away.

She sat next to me on the grass and then laid down.

"Did you have a nice nap?" I asked.

"I can probably sleep for another four hours."

I reclined next to her and stared up at the clear sky above.

Julie turned and curled up against my side. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." Even with the scent of grass all around me, I could still smell her.

"Are you still afraid of commitment? Is that why you're still single?"

I turned my face toward hers, breathing in her scent. If she only knew. After touching Julie Taylor, it suddenly felt wrong touching anyone else. Hell, I tried and tried. But my sex drive had decided to go on strike. I embarrassed myself one too many times when I couldn't perform and the last thing I needed was for it to get all around school that I lost my ability. So I stopped hitting on the rally girls. I stopped hitting all together.

So how was I going to answer her question? "I'm single because I wanna be single. And when I find what I'm looking for, Jules, you'll be the first to know." She stared back at me with her wide dark eyes and that crazy innocent look that went right to that part of me that wanted all of her attention. I wanted to kiss her. It was such an intense feeling, I had to look away.

"What did my dad say to you after I told him it wasn't your fault the night he kicked you out of our house?" she asked.

The mention of her father put the brakes on my little fantasy. I remembered the conversation as if it was yesterday.

* * *

**Flashback **

**(Tim's POV)**

"Come here. Let me talk to you a second," said Coach Taylor.

I followed him outside my house and he turned around to face me.

"I jumped to conclusions. I'm well aware of what happened the other night. I apologize. I was wrong."

I nodded. "That's fine, Coach."

He cut in. "No, it's not fine. I couldn't have mishandled it any worse, and I apologize."

I nodded again, thinking he was done, but he wasn't.

"The last couple weeks, I've been giving you hell and not once have you come to me and complained. And then you got where you're protecting my daughter, and you're not letting me think bad of her, and again you don't say a word. Not a word. And I'll tell you something, not as a coach, but as a father, you realize what an honorable thing that is? That is very honorable."

"Thank you, sir." I didn't know what else to say. No one had ever acknowledged that I had actually done the right thing for once in my life. It made me feel good. But I worried that Julie had caught hell for drinking at the party.

"All right." Coach slapped my arm before turning away. "Get your rest this weekend."

"Will do, Coach."

"You betcha, buddy. You betcha."

**End of Flashback**

* * *

**(Tim's POV)**

"You deserved that apology, Tim," Julie said. "It was selfish of me to let you take the fall for what happened, just because I was afraid to tell my dad the truth."

"It's all right, Jules. I get it now, I got it then. You don't have to prove anything to me."

"My dad must really like you because he doesn't often admit he's wrong."

I turned to her. "Did he tell you he was a character witness at my parole hearing?"

She shook her head. "No, he didn't. Really?"

* * *

**Flashback **

**(Tim's POV)**

I hadn't wanted my brother, Billy to speak at my parole hearing, but the lawyer insisted and now there was Billy stuttering away a written speech in front of the parole board.

"He's always been a great little brother, just a great person. He's a good American and he's changed." Billy looked up. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I mean, he's still a good American. He's just not going to get in the kind of trouble that he got into before." He stuttered again. "I'm sorry. I wrote all this down, but, um…The bottom line is, he's got a family that loves him and misses him, and we'll be a good support system for when he gets out. I've got a son who needs to know who his uncle is. Thank you."

"Thank you," said one of the board members. "Now I understand we have a letter of support from Mr Eric Taylor. Coach Taylor."

Coach stood up. "Thank you. I'm a high school football coach. I don't think that there's any better position to be able to judge the content of a young man's character than that. I coached Tim for three years. He graduated, got a scholarship, went off to college. He came back. I offered him a job as an assistant coach. I didn't ask him to be an assistant coach because of his skills on the field, which we all know were prodigious. I asked him to be part of our team because of his character off the field. The mistake that was made was tragic indeed. I think everyone here agrees that it was a stupid mistake. But that mistake does not represent the man who's sitting in front of you. I can guarantee you that. He is a good young man. That's how I know him. Thank you."

I just about broke into tears right then.

"Thank you," said the board man.

Buddy Garrity was also there and he said a few words, which actually impressed me for once.

When everyone left the court room, I was alone with Coach.

"Did they tell you how long it would take for them to decide?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "I've been told two weeks."

"The Bailiff said that you've been taking classes. Maybe get some time off for good behavior."

"Yes, sir. Good behavior." I looked up at him. "Did you get my letters?"

He looked at me. "I did. I'm sorry I didn't come visit more."

"I'm sorry that I let you down."

"You didn't, and that's not why I'm here."

When the Bailiff came, I shook hands with Coach Taylor. "Thank you for coming."

"All right."

The cuffs went on my wrists and they took me away.

**End of Flashback**

* * *

"I think it was what Coach said that convinced the parole board to let me go on good behavior," Tim said. "I only served eight months."

I decided to ask him the question that had plagued me for the longest time. "What did you do, Tim? Why were you sent to prison in the first place?"

"I got arrested for running a chop shop in Billy's place."

"Seriously? A chop shop?" I was relieved to know it hadn't been about drugs or prostitutes or even worse, that he hadn't committed murder.

"It wasn't me, Jules. Billy was the one that started the chop shop and I was totally against it from the beginning. But he's my brother and he needed my help. When the lawyer said Billy and I were facing three to five years in prison, I made a decision. I told the police that Billy had nothing to do with it."

My mouth hung open. "But why? Why would you do something like that?"

"He had a son, a wife, a family. I had the opportunity to change something. To give something to Stevie we never had. I gave him his father."

I couldn't believe he had taken the rap for something his brother had done. It seemed to be the one thing Tim was good at, taking the blame for everyone else's mistakes and accepting the consequences. He was the most decent person I had ever known and I couldn't possibly love him anymore than I already did.

As we stared up at the clouds floating passed us in the sky, I slid my hand under his and was glad he squeezed it. "You're a good person, Tim Riggins."

"That's what I keep hearing, but…"

"But?" I prompted.

"If your dad ever finds out we're sharing hotel rooms, you know my life won't be worth a nickel."

I smiled.


End file.
